


For Better or For Worse

by Candy_A



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, Series: The Diary Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-01-14
Updated: 1999-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:39:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candy_A/pseuds/Candy_A
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair must deal with the consequences of being "out".<br/>This story is a sequel to The Ellison Reports.<br/><b>Archivist note</b>: This story has been split into four parts for easier loading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is an AU of sorts, as I am picking up at the end of the second season, as if the third is not happening.
> 
> Thank You: To Virginia Call and Emily Brunson, my dynamite beta-readers, and all the wonderful people who sent comments on my previous stories, and those few brave souls who came right out and asked for this one!

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into four parts for easier loading.

## For Better or For Worse

by Candy Apple

Author's disclaimer: UPN and Pet Fly own all "The Sentinel" characters. Original folks are mine. I didn't get paid for this, and I'm not trying to infringe on anyone's copyrights. Just sharing a story with friends.

* * *

For Better or For Worse - part one  
by Candy Apple

Blair wiggled his nose, vaguely aware of something soft brushing beneath it. Unwilling to give up the peace of closed eyes, he snuggled further under the covers, groping around for Jim. All he got was the tickle under his nose again, and the very distinct scent of roses. With a spreading grin, he opened his eyes. 

Jim was kneeling on the bed, leaning over him, brushing a single red rose under Blair's nose. Having been unsure how his male lover would react to a dozen red roses, Jim had taken the risk and had them delivered to the loft the previous afternoon. Blair had set the day aside to work on his dissertation at home, so it was the perfect time to catch him off guard. 

The kiss in the car in front of thee Cascade P.D. had caught the both off guard. Jim still had mixed feelings about "coming out" at work, but he couldn't let those misgivings make Blair feel he had any doubts about the "rightness" of their relationship. That was right, perfect, and meant to be, in Jim Ellison's opinion. 

A couple of the roses had been sacrificed the night before when Jim had the inspiration of sprinkling his beautiful, naked lover with rose petals while he lay on the bed, waiting. Then he had taken Blair with a gentleness he didn't know he was capable of, prolonging their pleasure, tasting as much of his lover's body as he could while they were joined. 

"Good morning," Blair greeted sleepily, still smiling, capturing the hand that held the rose with his own. "Come back to bed?" 

"Thought you'd never ask." Jim discarded his robe and quickly slid under the covers. Winter was coming early to Cascade, with these October nights and early mornings dipping into the 20's. 

With a warm bundle of Blair in his arms, it didn't take long to warm up again. He handed the other man the rose, and then kissed his lips gently. 

"Last night was beautiful, sweetheart. Thank you." 

"For me too. I love you, mine." Blair reached up and caressed Jim's face. "I'll always love you, no matter what." 

"Sounds kind of ominous, baby." Jim captured the hand and kissed it, then held it against his chest. 

"I mean, even if things get difficult...nothing could ever make me leave you--unless you told me to go." 

"Then you're here for the duration, Chief." Jim pulled Blair firmly into his arms, squeezing him just tightly enough to make his point, but not to leave bruises. 

"I'm glad Carolyn was such an idiot." 

"Come again?" Jim pulled back. 

"Gee, thanks, Jim. I probably will in a little while." 

"Smart ass," Jim chided, laughing. "You know what I meant." He leaned forward and kissed the end of Blair's nose. 

"I said that I was glad Carolyn was such an idiot. She let you get away, so then I could have you." Blair busied himself kissing a hot trail down Jim's throat to his chest. Then he snuggled back into the warm nest of Jim's arms and the heavy comforter, seeming content to rest there, settled tightly against his lover. 

"I'm glad for whatever chain of events brought us here." 

"Did anything happen yesterday when you went in?" 

"They hadn't painted my desk pink or anything, no." Jim kissed the top of Blair's head and let one hand rub lazy circles on the smooth skin of his back. 

"I'm serious, man." 

"I know." Jim was quiet a minute. "Nothing major. Things were a bit chilly in the break room when I ran into a couple guys from Vice." 

"Not the same two who saw us?" 

"No. Patterson and Miller saw us. This was Hank Andrews and some new guy." 

"News probably travels pretty fast." 

"Well, within Vice, I reckon they pretty much know. Since most of the people who work at the P.D. are reasonably busy, it'll take the news a little bit of time to make it to all the departments. That is, to all the people who have any real interest in who their co-workers are sleeping with." 

"Did you tell Simon?" 

"Is that okay with you?" 

"You did? Yeah, I think that's great, Jim. Hey, I would've taken out a wedding announcement in the Cascade Herald if I could have." 

"Wedding. You know, that makes me think...we still haven't really said all those words to each other yet." 

"Jim, about Simon--" 

"Well, I told him that I wanted to be the one to tell him, because I figured he'd be hearing about it pretty soon. I said that you and I were in love, that we were committed to each other, and considered ourselves a couple." 

"What did he say?" 

"Before or after he passed out?" 

"Jim, dammit, I'm serious," Blair declared, completely unsuccessful at not smiling back at the sappy, lovesick face looking down at him. 

"He sat there for a minute and looked kind of dazed. I kind of thought the shock had killed him at first, but then he moved again--" 

"Jim, I swear to God, I wanna hear the serious version." 

"Okay. Sorry. He did reel a little, and then he asked me how long. I said a few months now, since early summer. He nodded, like he had known all along, and then he said he hoped I knew what I was getting into." 

"Gee, remind me to thank him for that one." 

"He didn't mean you, baby." Jim cuddled his lover a little closer and kissed him, this time poking a little with his tongue until he was finally admitted. Blair was almost always responsive, but next to sex, talking was one of his favorite pastimes. He wasn't thrilled to be interrupted in the middle of either one. Jim released the soft lips reluctantly. He'd have much preferred to spend the early morning hours making love. "He meant the attitudes of people at the station, society in general, etc." 

"What did you say?" 

"That I had never been happier, and no archaic social prejudice was going to take that away from me, and that I didn't see it as any problem in our working relationship. I also pointed out to him that even in the brief time when Carolyn and I were actually getting along in our marriage, we were able to behave professionally around each other at work, and still collaborate without ducking into the nearest closet for a quickie. I assured him you and I wouldn't be any less professional when we were together in the bullpen, or doing police business." 

"Guess we can't make out during stakeouts then, huh?" 

"Just the dead end ones." They shared a little chuckle, and as it faded, Jim continued. "Seriously, he was pretty calm about it. He just told me to be prepared to take some heat, and not to be surprised if the powers that be tried to make things a bit dicey for me at times." 

"You don't think that the other guys would ever...you know...not back you up or something like that?" 

"I like to think I work with professionals. My significant other's gender shouldn't be a basis for whether or not I get back-up." 

"It shouldn't be, but Jim...God, if anything happened to you because of us--" 

"It won't. Don't even worry about it." Jim held the smaller body close. 

"I'd die if I lost you." 

"No you wouldn't. It might feel like it at first, but you'd survive. Because I'd want you to. That would be your tribute to me--to survive it, and live, and be happy. Besides, I'd be waiting for you on the other side so we could pick up where we left off when you got there--many, many years later when you were old." 

"I hate this conversation, Jim. I don't want to talk about that. Ever." 

"Shhh." Jim felt a little tremor run through Blair's body. "I'm not going anywhere. Not now--not when I finally have the sexiest lover on earth." 

"What did Simon really say to all of it--after he'd said all the captain stuff, what was the friend stuff?" 

"That he knew we were in for a long, hard road, bucking the tide, but that he hoped we were happy together, and he wouldn't be giving us any hassles. He said he'd support us as much as he could." 

"I kind of hoped that's how he'd react." 

"You know, all this talking is nice, but we've got a whole Saturday to ourselves, and I can think of things I'd rather do." 

"Do you really want to say the words?" 

"What?" 

"What you said about weddings--and that we hadn't said those words. Do you want to?" 

"Yes." 

"Maybe we could plan our own. I mean, a marriage is between two people anyway, so why do we need for it to be legal or sanctioned by anyone?" 

"We don't. There are a few things we need to do legally--I want to be sure you have my power of attorney for business and medical situations in case I'm down for the count. Otherwise, you could run into taking a back seat to Stephen, if they could even track him down." 

"Good idea. I want that too." 

"What about Naomi?" 

"You think tracking Stephen would be tricky? Man, I'd be dead three times over before they could find her." 

"Are you feeling okay, sweetheart? I'm getting the feeling you're keeping us talking." 

"No, I wasn't doing that at all," Blair responded, a little too defensively. 

"Sore from last night?" Jim asked gently, kissing Blair's forehead. 

"Kind of," Blair admitted quietly. 

"I wasn't thinking about doing that again, baby. It's too soon." 

"I seems like I ought to be able to do it more than once a week, Jim. I guess I'm just uptight or too small or something." Blair exhaled in frustration. "It feels good when we actually do it, but it hurts afterwards." 

"It's my giant, throbbing rod of manhood that's the problem. It's just too damned huge for you." Jim smiled as Blair laughed out loud, for quite a few seconds. "It's not _that_ funny, Chief." He reached around and swatted Blair's rear end. 

"Hey!" Blair started a little, but Jim stifled the protest with a kiss as he stroked the offended cheek. 

"It'll take your mind off your asshole for a minute." 

"You're such a poet, man." Blair was smiling again, snuggling back into Jim's arms. 

"We'll get used to everything eventually," Jim responded. "If this is truth time, after the last time you topped, I walked around like the Hunchback of Notre Dame most of the next day. Man, it killed my back." 

"You're the one who wanted to be on your back and folded up like a pretzel." 

"You're heavier than you look, you meaty little devil." 

"Pure muscle--oh, yeah, and throbbing manhood, too." Blair grinned as Jim chuckled a little. 

"The sex is great though." 

"Yeah. Even if it kills us both." 

"Now Simon'll know why we're walking funny all the time." 

"Argh!" Blair dropped his forehead to Jim's chest, and the larger man smiled, wondering what wonderful shade of red his lover's expressive face was turning. 

"Right now I just want to kiss you senseless. The rest'll figure itself out," Jim concluded, swooping down on Blair. Lips met and tongues dueled, sharing prolonged, lazy Saturday morning kisses. Hands traveled and explored, and before long, Blair thrust upward against Jim, beginning an energetic and passionate frenzy of humping that led them both to their completion. 

Blair stretched up for a kiss, then wrapped a leg around Jim's to seal their sticky, sated bodies together as they dozed and enjoyed the afterglow. 

* * *

Blair sorted through the papers in his "In" box. He had jokingly told Jim that he guessed he was really official now, since people could leave stuff for him to do. One sheet of pale pink paper caught his eye. He pulled it out of the stack of white memos and inter-office envelopes and scanned it. It was his copy of a memo to Jim regarding a case they had worked on with Vice a few weeks back. //Since when does Vice send out memos in pink?// Blair rifled through his lover's "In" box and found his copy of the memo, also on pink paper. 

"Getting love letters in your box again, Sandburg?" Jim teased, taking a hold of Blair's desk chair and moving the rolling chair with the other man in it to the side so he could sit down and get his knees under the desk. 

"We both got one. From Vice." 

"It's just an update on the Hill case." Jim shrugged and tossed it aside. "What is it?" He noticed that Blair was still staring at him. 

"Don't you find it a little odd that the guys in Vice have suddenly become partial to pink?" 

"Maybe that was all that was available in the copy room. I don't know." Jim pulled his own stack of paperwork in front of him and began sorting it. 

"You can't stick your head in the sand here, Jim. You know what this is about." 

"Even if this has something to do with us," Jim said quietly, "sending us pink memos is pretty harmless, juvenile stuff. They'll get tired of it." 

"It's probably just the beginning." 

"Let's not borrow trouble, Chief. Hand me that file over there, will ya?" Jim reached a little past Blair, and the younger man complied with the request, knowing it was useless to talk to Jim when he was determined to pretend there was nothing to talk about. 

The balance of the morning passed in companionable silence, sorting and dealing with paperwork, making a few phone calls, and finally breaking for lunch. They ate together, parked in the most remote corner of WonderBurger's parking lot, feeding each other and sharing kisses in between bites. 

The blare of a car horn startled them in the middle of a particularly prolonged kiss. Jim heaved a sigh of relief and laughed when he looked over his shoulder to see Ryf and Brown parked next to them, waving and smiling. Ryf got out, assuming a very official stance and motioned Jim to roll down the window. 

"Okay, I'm gonna have to take you guys in for lewd and lascivious behavior," he announced, hooking his thumbs in his belt in his best impression of a country sheriff. "The public ordinances expressly prohibit tonsil-cleaning in parking lots." 

"It was all his idea," Jim retorted with a grin, pointing at Blair. 

"He abducted me and threatened to do nasty things to me," Blair replied, laughing. 

"So, ah, when did this happen?" Ryf was grinning conspiratorially. 

"This summer," Jim responded, looking distinctly smug. 

"I heard a couple rumors, but I thought it was just the usual crap. You gettin' any heat from the brass?" 

"Simon's okay with it. Beyond that, I haven't heard anything. We were spotted kissing in the parking lot by a couple guys in Vice, so that's probably where the gossip started." 

"So when were you going to clue us in?" Brown hollered from the car. 

"We haven't exactly put out announcements," Jim responded. 

"Then you better quit eating each other's tongues for lunch," Ryf jabbed good-naturedly as he got back in the driver's seat of the car. "Congratulations, by the way. 

"Thanks," both voices came out in unison. As Ryf and Brown pulled out of the other parking spot and headed toward the building, where they drove through the drive-up to get lunch, Jim grinned at his lover. 

"Honest-to-God, Sandburg, I never saw any liberated neo-hippie blush as often as you do." He reached over and stoked Blair's warm face. "You're cute when you're blushing." Jim snickered as that turned Blair even redder and he ducked his head. "Now, Ryf and Brown didn't stone us, did they?" 

"They're our friends." 

"And we have a lot of friends. The juvenile morons who send us memos on pink paper aren't enough of an issue to get upset about. Oh, hey, I stopped by this new bookstore on the way back from talking to Garvey," Jim began, referring to a snitch he'd met with before joining Blair in the bullpen. He produced a bag from under the driver's seat and handed it to Blair. "Take a look." 

"You seriously bought these?" Blair's eyes widened to saucers as he perused the titles: "'1001 Ways to Drive a Man Wild in Bed', 'The Art of Sensual Massage'," Blair read aloud, stunned. "You didn't like, shoplift these out under your coat or something?" Blair watched as Jim laughed hard enough to blow part of his cola through his nose. A few gasps and curses later, he composed himself. 

"No, Blair, I didn't steal them. I picked them out and bought them. I'm over 18. If I want to pick up a book on how to have sex while hanging by my toes from the ceiling, it's my business. Although I admit to chickening out on the one with two naked guys on the cover." 

"I'm usually the research person around here." 

"Well, we've been experimenting on each other, which has gone pretty well, but I think we both need to relax more, especially when we have sex all the way--penetration. Neither one of us are real comfortable after being on the bottom for that. Maybe these'll help. It'll be fun trying, anyway." 

"I really love you, do you know that?" Blair said, very somberly. 

"And I adore you, sweetheart," Jim leaned over and kissed Blair lightly on the lips. 

"Think we should get back?" 

"Yeah. Here. Better stash those babies under the seat." He took the books back from Blair and returned them to their hiding place. 

* * *

Blair lay on his stomach on the bed, relaxing under the gentle pressure of Jim's strong hands, kneading his muscles and rubbing away all the tensions of the day. The fact Jim had one of the new books open on the bed and kept glancing at it as he worked was just more of a turn-on to Blair. Jim loved him enough to do research on how to make him feel good. He purred a little at that thought, and was glad that Jim was taking that as an affirmation of his massage technique. 

"You're tensed up, baby," Jim said softly, still working on shoulder muscles that wouldn't lose their stiffness. "Anything unusual going on at the U?" 

"Not really...well, I guess there was Nicole." 

"Nicole? She a student of yours?" Jim moved to the middle of Blair's back now, rubbing gently. 

"Yeah. Freshman. She's pregnant. Just found out yesterday, and she was really freaked out. She thinks her parents'll drag her back home, and the guy doesn't want anything to do with her or the baby. She was really upset. Crying... Man, I wanted to help her. I just didn't know how." 

"I'm sure you did, baby. Just listening is sometimes everything, and you're a master at that." Jim's hands were interrupted when Blair rolled over to look up at him. 

"I love you, mine." He reached up and laid a hand on Jim's face, watching it break into that beautiful Ellison smile he'd come to love so much. 

"Love you too." Jim caught the hand and kissed the palm, then held it close to his face. 

"Make love to me? I mean for real--all the way?" 

"You sure?" 

"I want to get as close to you as I can. I'm sure about that. I just really need to feel you inside me." 

Jim carefully lowered himself to cover the smaller body beneath him, supporting part of his weight on his elbows. Blair's arms went around his neck and pulled down his full weight. Jim slid his arms around his lover and turned them on their sides, where they settled and kissed for long minutes. 

"How do you want to do it, sweetheart? On your side?" 

"No. I want to sit in your lap sort of, so we can really hold each other--face to face." 

"It'll be a deep penetration, baby. I don't want to hurt you." 

"We'll take it slow. That's how I wanna do it...if you want to." 

"As long as it's with you, I want to do it." Jim leaned in for another prolonged kiss, then lost himself in exploring Blair's body with lips and tongue. He trailed kisses down the strong jawline, dipped below the chin to kiss and suck at the tender skin of his lover's throat. He smiled at the little sigh that escaped slightly parted lips as Blair's head dropped back into the pillow, exposing his throat for Jim's attentions. 

Jim tuned every sense to his lover's body. Blair's heart was beating a bit faster from their lovemaking, but there was an edge of tension and nervousness missing from his muscles and his respiration. //Maybe tonight will be easier,// Jim hoped fervently. The sex was always wonderful, but it had been leaving pain in its wake, and even the thought that this would eventually get easier and more natural-feeling didn't change the unease Jim felt at hurting Blair in any way. They had been lovers for months now, and while they didn't perform this one act often, they always made it special and took their time. It seemed it should be pretty comfortable by now. 

A gentle hand brushed over Jim's head, cradling it against Blair's chest as his mouth fastened on a hardening nub there. There was a little moan of pleasure from Blair as he arched up to meet the stimulation, sliding his fingers through Jim's soft hair. 

Blair smiled to himself when he thought of how he had accomplished making Jim Ellison the ex-military cop actually grow some visible hair. He had been sure the already stunning face would look much more handsome framed by a more substantial amount of hair, and it did. His constant stroking of the short hair and comments on how soft he thought it would probably be, and how much he would love to run _his_ fingers through _Jim's_ hair for a change had worked their magic. 

Jim finally abandoned the second nipple after torturing it to a painful hardness, and nibbled his way down Blair's stomach, swirling his tongue around the navel and nipping at the sensitive skin beneath it. He was rewarded with just what he was after--Blair started giggling. Nipping and nuzzling at his lover's most vulnerable tickle zone, he had Blair in a frenzy of combined arousal and uncontrollable laughter. Finally having mercy, he turned his attentions to the smooth skin of Blair's hips, then moved down to the thighs, blatantly ignoring the straining erection right in front of him. 

He'd read something in one of his new books about the backs of the knees being a sensitive spot during sex. He couldn't remember a woman ever giving him a "knee job" before, but he figured he'd experiment on Blair. He gently gripped his lover's right leg and lifted it up, exposing the back of the thigh and knee for his attentions. He kissed, licked, and nipped at the back of Blair's thigh. He already knew that worked. He resisted the urge to dip lower and give Blair a rimming to remember. All in good time. 

Finished with the thigh, he launched his assault on the back of Blair's knee. He got the strangled little groans and mumbles of his name that meant it was working. He smiled a little, then treated the other leg to the same sweet torment. 

"Jim...help me here, man...I'm dying..." Blair whined. 

"Patience, sweetheart. Hang on for me a little longer," Jim whispered against the tender skin of Blair's groin. //Now if I can hang on and not come all over him before we get to the main event,// Jim thought, noting the growing discomfort of his own erection that was demanding attention. 

Gently lowering Blair's legs to the mattress, he reached over his lover and snagged the lube from the nightstand. In a move as coordinated as any made by professional dancers, Jim returned to his spot between Blair's legs while Blair drew his knees up, exposing his center. Before beginning his preparations with the lube, Jim leaned forward and ran his tongue over the little pucker and then kissed it. Blair shivered delightfully in response. 

Jim smiled to himself as Blair relaxed quite easily this time, accepting the progression of one, two and then three fingers with greater ease than usual, rocking with the motion of Jim's fingers. 

"I'm going to scoot up on the bed, baby. Then you straddle my lap, okay?" Jim managed, wondering where he was getting the control not to just plunge into that greased, prepared passage while Blair still had his legs apart. 

"Yeah, just do it, man," Blair gasped out in reply. 

Once Jim was situated, his partner straddled his lap, and lined up the opening of his body with Jim's aching shaft. 

"Slowly," Jim whispered, getting a good grip on Blair's waist so he could help him control the speed at which he was impaled. His eyes drifted shut as he felt the delicious sensations of being swallowed up by the tight heat of Blair's body. 

Blair's expressive face hid nothing. There was the initial adjustment to the intrusion, the sensations and emotions that were going through his mind and body as he was filled with Jim's length. When his buttocks finally came to rest on Jim's groin, Blair let out a little groan at the depth of the penetration. 

"Don't move yet, baby. Relax," Jim ground out, his own head dropping back against the pillows as he made every effort not to move. He'd never gone that deep, and the feeling was beyond intense. And though it was taking him a moment, Blair was accepting him more easily than he ever had before. 

And then that beautiful, sweaty, naked body impaled on him started to move slowly, almost experimentally at first. Jim remembered that Blair wanted them to be able to hold each other, and he maneuvered them slightly so he could wrap his arms around Blair, with the smaller man's arms around his neck and legs coming together around his back. 

"Oh, man..." Jim gasped as he drank in the sensations of being totally joined to Blair. Their bodies were as close as possible, physically joined in every way. He began to let go of some of the controls, moving in rhythm with Blair, trapping his lover's shaft between them so it was maddened by the friction of their contact. 

Blair had been reduced to the occasional outcry of pleasure, his retinue of vocabulary stripped away by the heat of their sex. Jim was surprised to feel the sting of a love bite on his neck, and then the hot, wet mouth soothing it. He pulled Blair's head up in line with his own and plundered his mouth, tongue demanding entrance and receiving no resistance. He thrust his tongue in and out of Blair's willing mouth, mimicking what the rest of their bodies were doing. 

Blair tore his mouth away first, gasping for air, and letting out one cry of Jim's name before his seed spilled between them, and the spasms of his body dragged a climax out of Jim, who called out Blair's name in a series of little gasps, and then one prolonged shout as he filled his lover's body. 

The smaller body was draped over Jim's, boneless and sated. Jim had collapsed back into the pillows, holding Blair close, their bodies still joined. When he had softened enough to withdraw easily, Jim began to pull out of Blair, but was stopped in his tracks. 

"No. I want to stay this way." The voice was sleepy and almost slurred. 

"For a couple minutes more, sweetheart." Jim smiled into the warm mop of curls under his nose. "I love you so much. God I love you." He tightened his hold on Blair as much as he dared without hurting him. 

"I love you too, mine. Always and forever. For better or for worse. No matter what." 

"Always and forever. For better or for worse, no matter what," Jim repeated, realizing what Blair was doing. The other man raised up a little so they could look into each other's eyes. 

"I do," Blair said, grinning a little. 

"I do," Jim added, pulling Blair in for a gentle kiss. 

"I don't want this to end," Blair murmured, still resisting Jim's movement to withdraw. There was a neediness in the statement that tore at Jim's heart. Jim wasn't sure if Blair meant their physical union or their love. 

"We're always going to love each other, baby. That won't ever end." 

"That was...oh, man, that was...amazing," Blair concluded, smiling and kissing Jim again, playfully this time. He finally didn't resist Jim's movement to ease out of him, and settled into the strong arms that wrapped possessively around him. 

"You okay?" 

"Better than okay." Blair groaned luxuriously and started to drift with his head pillowed on Jim's chest. 

"You have the most beautiful body," Jim whispered, running his hands up and down the smooth back. 

"Yeah, right," Blair snorted a little laugh. "This from Mr. Universe." 

"Don't laugh about it, sweetheart. I mean it. Beautiful bodies come in every shape and size. Yours is just plain beautiful (a neck kiss), and perfect (a shoulder kiss), and delicious." Jim fastened his mouth on the sweet flesh of Blair's neck, leaving a substantial passion mark, then licked lovingly over it. 

"We're going to have hickies tomorrow," Blair giggled. 

"Big ones. Probably show, too." Jim rolled them on their sides. 

"Was I smooshing you?" 

"Breathing _is_ kind of nice," Jim responded with a little grin. 

"That was wonderful...I think it was the best one yet." 

"No arguments," Jim agreed, smiling. "Did I hurt you?" 

"That's what's so weird. I mean, I can feel it, but it's not really pain." 

"You were more relaxed." 

"Yeah. Maybe the massage book paid off," Blair planted a little kiss on Jim's chin, too sleepy to make it up to his lips. 

"Love you. Time for sleep, huh?" 

"Mmmhm." A rather long and loud yawn came from the spot where Blair had tucked his head under Jim's chin. 

While Blair slipped off into sleep, Jim held him and let his own mind and body wind down for the night. At the back of his mind, a little voice was nagging: //You haven't heard the end of this coming out business, Ellison. You're just waiting for the other shoe to drop...// 

He unconsciously tightened his embrace on his sleeping lover and joined him on the plane of dreams. 

* * *

"Hey, Blair, how's it goin'?" Julie, Blair's student assistant, barely looked up as he entered his office. She was sitting Indian-style on the floor, partially buried in papers. 

"Filing day, huh?" he asked cheerfully, tossing his backpack in his chair and turning on the speaker phone to listen to his voicemails. 

"You're going to be working with those high school kids who are touring, right?" 

"Yup, most of the day." He sat on the edge of his desk and started sorting mail as the messages played. One from a student who would be absent from class that evening, two from other professors who wanted him to cover classes, one from Jim, which he picked up the phone and listened to privately, and one from the Anthropology Department Chairman, Robert Tillman. He sounded way too serious for Blair's tastes. The momentary high of Jim's very affectionate message dissipated at the icy tones in the administrator's voice. 

"Bad news?" Julie asked, noticing Blair's troubled expression. 

"Just a summons from the boss. That's not usually good news for anybody," Blair concluded lightly, forcing a smile he didn't really feel. "He said ASAP, so I guess I better go find the old buzzard." Blair flashed her another grin, and she returned it, going back to her sorting project. 

Blair approached Dr. Tillman's office and tapped on the door. The barked "come in" was not indicative of a man in a good mood. 

"Sandburg, have a seat--oh, shut the door first," he ordered, barely sparing Blair a glance from the pile of papers on his desk. 

"You wanted to see me?" Blair inquired, sitting in one of the chairs opposite the oversized desk, which was littered from one end to the other. 

"We've had a complaint against you from one of your students." 

"Who? Sam Keller? I stand behind flunking him on that last test. I don't care if he _is_ the star quarterback." 

"Not Sam Keller. Nicole Pierce." 

"Nicole? She just came to me yesterday to...to talk," Blair finished, not wanting to divulge the girl's secret. 

"What about?" 

"What's the complaint?" Blair challenged. 

"Sexual harassment. She said you propositioned her, and when she bent over to pick up her books, you fondled her rear end and told her to think about your offer." He leaned back in his chair, a look of satisfaction on his face. Blair and he had locked horns from the start, and having the grad student right where he wanted him did not seem an unpleasant situation for the professor. 

"That's a lie. I never touched her--well, I might have put my hand on her shoulder, because she was crying, but I never did anything inappropriate." 

"At this point, she doesn't want to file criminal charges, but since she has made this complaint, there will be a hearing regarding disciplinary action through the University." 

"Hold on. You're just assuming I did this?" 

"No. There will be a hearing. If it's determined that you're guilty, Rainier will take the appropriate disciplinary actions." 

"Which would be what?" 

"This is a very serious breach of ethics, Sandburg. The best case scenario would be the loss of your teaching fellowship but you would still be allowed to complete your dissertation here without financial assistance from the University. The worst case scenario would be your dismissal from Rainier altogether." 

"How am I supposed to defend myself? It was just the two of us in my office with the door closed. I didn't do anything--I just don't know how to prove that." 

"I'm afraid that's _your_ problem. I'm sure the committee will hear your side of things with an open mind. Character witnesses would be advisable." 

"How long until there's a hearing?" 

"Most likely next week. I'll let you know when in a day or so, when it's scheduled. As for the girl, she's been dropped from your class by the Registrar's Office at the direction of the Dean of Students. She asked that if you have any papers of hers, you return them immediately--via mail. She further has stipulated that if you make any attempts to call or visit her, she will press criminal charges of sexual assault. So do yourself a favor and stay away from her." 

"This is ridiculous. Why would she do this to me? All I did was try to listen when she needed someone to talk to--" 

"It wouldn't be unwise for you to speak to an attorney. If she presses criminal charges, you'll need one. If she sues you or the University, you should be prepared." 

"Do you think she will?" 

"My guess as to how this will play out is that if you're found guilty by the review board and dismissed from the University, she most likely won't sue. If she perceives that the University isn't policing its own, or punishing you properly for what you did to her, she'll probably sue." 

"Then I'm dead in the water right now and you know it. If my being dismissed is the difference between her suing and not suing--" 

"Nothing like that has been suggested to anyone who will serve on the committee. That was an unofficial assessment, Blair." There was a drop of sympathy in the older man's voice, that slight softening that comes when you've finally decimated the enemy and can afford to be magnanimous. 

"I didn't do anything wrong, I swear I didn't. I never would do something like that to a student. Besides, I'm not even trying to pick anybody up. I'm with someone permanently, in a committed relationship--" 

"I had the pleasure of watching your little display in the parking lot the other day." 

"What 'little display'?" 

"Necking in the car." 

"We never--Jim kissed me good-bye, but that was it." 

"Whatever," the other man concluded with a distasteful expression. 

"If your wife dropped you off for work and kissed you goodbye, you wouldn't consider it lewd behavior. Why is this any different?" 

"I don't plan to debate social mores with you, Sandburg. I'll be in touch about the hearing date. I have another appointment coming in shortly, so if you'll excuse me..." 

"Right. Fine." Blair stood and strode out of the office, realizing that arguing with Tillman would be akin to beating his head against a brick wall, only slightly less productive. 

"You're still in one piece, that's a good sign," Julie joked as Blair returned to his office. 

"I, uh, I gotta take care of something. Could you call Tammy in the Education office and tell her that I can't take that tour around?" He picked up his back pack and headed for the door. 

"Sure." 

Blair didn't even hear her reply as he hurried down the hall. 

Sitting on an empty bench in a courtyard that was all but deserted in the chilly fall weather, Blair dialed Jim's number at the station on his cell phone. 

"Ellison," came the lackluster reply. 

"Jim, it's me." 

"Hey, Chief. What's up?" His voice immediately brightened. 

"I...I just needed to hear your voice, that's all." 

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," Blair retorted a little too quickly. "I just missed you." 

"Something happened. Come on, sweetheart, you can tell me." Jim's soft voice and the endearment were the last straw. Blair felt his throat closing, but resisted the urge to really lose it. He was just plain scared, and he wanted Jim. That's all there was to it. 

"I'm in trouble. I don't mean danger or anything. I'm okay. I...I just...I don't know what to do..." 

"Where are you?" 

"At the U, but I'm going home. I'll be okay." 

"I'll meet you there in half an hour," Jim responded. 

"You're at work." 

"You take priority, you know that, baby," Jim whispered softly into the phone. "Just try to calm down and go home. I'll be right there." 

"Love you, mine." 

"You too." Jim broke the connection and Blair folded up his phone and tucked it in his backpack. He took a deep breath, picked up his pack and headed for the loft. 

* * *

Jim opened the door to the loft and located Blair immediately where he sat in the corner of the couch, knees drawn up with his arms around them. 

"Blair? What's wrong?" Jim locked the door behind him and tossed his keys in the basket. 

"Remember Nicole--the girl I told you was pregnant?" 

"Yeah." 

"She's accusing me of sexual harassment. She says I propositioned her and fondled her. Jim, I didn't touch her. I'd never do something like that. The most I did was touch her shoulder because she was crying. I didn't do anything wrong but they could throw me out and she might sue the U and--" 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jim chided gently, sitting down close to Blair. "First of all, come here." Jim held out his arms and Blair went into them gratefully. "Everything is going to be okay. I don't know how, but things will work out somehow. I know you didn't do anything wrong, and I know you wouldn't hurt one of your students that way." 

"I wouldn't cheat on you with anybody, Jim." 

"I know that too." Jim slid his hand into the soft hair and pressed Blair's head against his shoulder. "I want you to relax. I know that's hard, but just try to calm down a little. I'm right here. You're not in this alone, okay?" 

"Okay." Blair nodded a little. Jim could feel a slight decrease in the previously thundering heartbeat. 

"Good boy. Just relax." He rubbed Blair's back slowly, concentrating on just holding him close and getting him calm. "Now tell me, slowly, what happened. And remember that I'm on your side. I don't care how bad it sounds, okay?" He smiled as Blair nodded again, and began his story with Nicole's visit and her teary revelation of her pregnancy and how he had tried to comfort her and offer her some kind of advice about talking to her family. The visit had ended with her thanking him for his time and concern, and her departure. The only touch had been a hand on the shoulder when she was crying. 

"I don't know why she'd do something like this to me." 

"Think. Have you ever had her in a class before--maybe flunked her?" 

"I remember the people I flunk, because fortunately, there aren't that many. She isn't one of them. Besides, she's a freshman, and it's her first semester." 

"How're her grades in your class?" 

"Average. C's mostly, an occasional B if she works at it." 

"Okay. Could she be related to or involved with anyone who might have an axe to grind--an angry student, whatever?" 

"I don't know, Jim. How could I know that?" Blair snapped. 

"Look, I know you're upset, but you've got to use that first-rate brain of yours to figure this out. She's never threatened criminal charges, huh?" 

"No--she actually told Tillman she didn't want to press criminal charges because she didn't want to have to go through all that. She really only reported it to him for the U to take disciplinary action. He made the remark that what they did would probably determine whether or not she sues Rainier--and me. If that's the case, I might as well pack up my stuff and leave voluntarily. I'm not worth a multi-million dollar lawsuit to them." 

"You know why the little bitch doesn't want to press criminal charges?" Jim asked, his anger building with each passing minute. "She doesn't want to bring in the cops because then that authorizes someone to officially scrutinize her background, challenge her story, push her to produce some proof. She doesn't have what it takes to run with the big dogs. She's a damn lousy fraud and the only way she can pull this off is by hiding behind the University and making veiled threats about lawsuits, which also probably wouldn't hold water in court." 

"But it wouldn't look too good in print." 

"Whenever I've investigated a crime where the victim was still alive, I analyzed every shred I could dig up about that victim. Either to point me to the perp--or to verify that the story held water. Her refusal to press criminal charges is the slipperiest thing she could do to you, because you don't have any rights to investigate her. She can scream harassment and have a restraining order slapped on you if you go near her. Officially, I can't do it because the police haven't been called in. I don't know why, Chief, but this girl has had some damned fine advice on how to nail your ass to the wall." 

"Tell me something I don't know." Blair shifted a little in Jim's arms, but made no attempt to move away. He was just getting comfortable, and Jim could feel a little of the tension leaving the taut muscles. //Major massage tonight,// Jim thought sympathetically, squeezing Blair a little. 

"Can you get access to her personal data in the student database?" 

"No, but Scott can." 

"Who's Scott?" 

"One of my former student employees. He works in the Student Services office, and they have all that stuff on a database there. He often looks stuff up for me on the QT." 

"Such as?" Jim had a little smile in his voice. 

"Sometimes, if a student is having a lot of problems, or flunking out, or harassing me, or whatever, I try to get to know them better. One way is by learning all I can about their background--where they come from, if they have parents, who they are, if they live alone, on campus or at home, their high school--that kind of thing. Scott looks students up for me all the time." 

"Does he work on the database a lot, or would names stand out in his memory?" 

"Scott has a bad memory when he wants to. The only reason he doesn't work for me anymore is because the number of hours teaching fellows can have student employee help was cut last year and Scott wanted the maximum number of hours he could get. So he had to switch to Student Services. But we still eat lunch together once in a while, you know, keep in touch. If I level with him, he'll help me. But I _really_ don't want him to get in trouble." 

"You would be a professor making an inquiry about a student. Do you think they'd fire him for answering you?" 

"First, I'm not a professor. Second, the Student Services office doesn't just hand that information out to faculty. I mean general stuff, sure, but the Dean has to okay releasing a lot of personal stuff." 

"But would they fire him for helping you if he thought you were trying to help a student?" 

"Probably not. Dean Ryman is a pretty cool lady. She'd probably chew him out and let it go at that." 

"Hopefully, no one will ever have to know. Look, call your pal Scott and get as much on her as you can." 

"Then what?" 

"Then we're going to investigate the hell out of her." 

"But you can't do--" Blair was silenced by two gentle fingers over his mouth. 

"We're going to beat this thing, sweetheart. Even if we have to sneak in the back door to do it." Jim removed his fingers and kissed the closed lips quickly. "Now go call Scott." 

"Okay." Blair moved away a minute, then flung himself on Jim, arms going tightly around the other man's neck. "I love you so much." 

"I love you too," Jim said, laughing a little as he got his wind back from the impact of being hit with Blair at high speed. 

Blair called his former student assistant, and was rewarded with Nicole Pierce's personal data, including her address, phone number, high school, parents' names, emergency contact names, and two conduct incident reports at Rainier. Apparently, Nicole and her roommate had been the subject of one disorderly conduct incident in the residence halls and Nicole herself had gotten in hot water for throwing a loud party after curfew. 

"Well, not much on the surface," Jim said, scanning the information Blair had jotted down. "Okay, your job is to get your network of friends at the U mobilized. You know enough students, other grad students, teaching assistants--hell, even faculty--who will probably be willing to fill you in on anything they know. Blair, enough people know what kind of person you are. Your friends are going to stand by you." 

"Not all of them." 

"Not all of them, no. But most of them will. No matter what, most of them are going to know that you just couldn't do what she's saying you did." 

"What're you going to do?" 

"All the things I can't tell you about so you can't testify against me if I get caught." Jim kissed Blair's forehead and stood up again. 

"I wouldn't do that, man." 

"Well, if you don't know, you don't have to perjure yourself by saying you don't know. Will you be okay here?" 

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Now," Blair responded, smiling. "Thanks for coming home." 

"I'm glad you called me, baby." Jim leaned down for one more quick kiss. "I've gotta go. I have a few things I want to check on right away, and you have some people out at the U to talk to. _Right?_ " Jim urged, smiling when Blair stood up. 

"Aye Aye, Sir." He executed a sloppy salute. 

"And when you're done with that, you're going to come home so I can have my way with you." He patted Blair's butt and then headed out the door, leaving his lover to ponder that thought. 

* * *

The first person Blair went to see was Julie. His current student assistant was a sophomore, lived in a small apartment near the campus, and had a very active social life. She was an honor student who ate up learning with an appetite not dissimilar to Blair's, and in the brief time she'd been his student assistant, they'd become good friends. Blair knew all the ups and downs of her love life and her academic struggles, and Julie heard every frustrated groan about the dissertation, the administration and any other cause that might have caught Blair's attention that day. 

Julie was in the middle of outlining a research paper when Blair arrived at her apartment. The cramped one-bedroom unit was cluttered with books, nick-knacks, and the general disarray of someone who had no fondness for housekeeping. As she moved a pile of magazines off the couch to clear a seat for Blair, he felt right at home. 

"Well, we've established you don't want a soda, you don't need any help at the office, and I'm not fired. So why _are_ you here?" she finally prodded, after all her chatty attempts at learning the purpose of Blair's visit were thwarted. Sitting on the other end of the couch with her legs gathered under her, dressed in old sweats with her blonde hair pulled back in a haphazard pony tail, she wasn't the neat, fashionable student that Blair saw every day now that she was in her home environment. 

"Julie, I need your help. To get it, I have to do something pretty unethical. I need you to keep some things in confidence for me. Can you do that?" 

"Sounds serious." 

"I didn't kill anybody or anything," Blair hastened to assure with a nervous little smile. "Actually, I didn't _do_ anything, but someone's saying I did, and I need some help to..." 

"Get your fat out of the fire?" 

"Yeah, you could say that," he said, laughing. 

"Just tell me what's happening. I won't say anything." 

"A student accused me of sexual harassment." 

"That's ridiculous! If you were that kind of pervert I wouldn't let you in here." 

"Do you know Nicole Pierce?" 

"Vaguely. I went to a party of hers once. Got shut down by the campus cops. I left right when they were arriving. Good timing, I guess." She smiled a little. "She's saying you did something to her?" 

"She claims I propositioned her and fondled her. She came to me with a personal problem, mainly just to have someone to talk to--or so I thought--and so I spent an hour or so with her, and the most I did was lay a hand on her shoulder. I never touched her anywhere else. I never would do that to a student." 

"I know that, Blair. God, I trust you completely." 

"Is that a good thing?" Blair raised his eyebrows. 

"A little disappointing, maybe, but yeah, it's a good thing." 

"Thanks, I needed that right now," he responded honestly, smiling at her little compliment. "I guess I'm just trying to find out why she'd want to do this to me. I'm not flunking her--I don't know her other than the fact she's in my Anthro 100 class this semester." 

"Maybe you flunked that brain surgeon she's sleeping with." 

"Who's that?" 

"Bryan Tipton. He's a football player." 

"Name isn't familiar, but I can look through my student records." 

"I don't know Nicole real well. I got invited to her party because my sister, Jackie, is friends with Nicole's sister, Marti. They're both juniors at the same high school back home. They got talking and Marti told Nicole that I was here, and that I was Jackie's sister--and they're like, best friends. Anyway, Nicole invited me to the party because of that, but we didn't spend much time together. She spent most of the evening climbing on Bryan and drinking. There was pot at the party, I heard from someone. I smelled something funky, so I guess that must have been it. I was only there about an hour before I left. It sucked." 

"Other than Bryan, do you know any of Nicole's other friends?" 

"I'm in an English class with one of her suitemates. Her name's Pam something. Oh, God..." She winced as she tried to remember the girl's last name. "Sorry, Blair. I don't remember her last name. But I can find out. Anyhow, Pam's pretty nice, and a good student. Beyond that, I don't know if we have any of the same friends. Like I said, I don't know her too well--don't really care to." 

"Hey, even this information helps. I just need to find out why she's targeted me." 

"I won't say anything to anyone about it. But I hope you know that even if this gets out, nobody on campus is going to buy her story. I mean, I know you've dated a couple of the TA's, but I've always heard good things back about you from other students. None of the girls I know who've had your classes ever said you were anything but nice to them or helpful--and a couple of them were kind of pissed that they used their best tight mini skirts on visits to your office with no results." 

"Julie, I-I'm in a relationship." 

"This must be tricky then. But I'm sure Jim believes your side." 

"He does, but--hey, how'd you know I was talking about Jim?" 

"Oh, please! Whenever he stops by, all you two need are those little cartoon hearts floating around between you. You're so cute together. He's got it so bad for you he can't see straight." She giggled a little as Blair blushed furiously and covered his face with one hand. "Don't be embarrassed. I think it's sweet. You know, if you guys were out, Nicole's claim would look a lot sillier." 

"We're sort of coming out. Not really intentionally. I mean, I don't care who knows, but Jim's a cop--" 

"And that's not cool with the whole machismo thing on a police force. I can understand that." 

"Well, we sort of outed ourselves by accident. He kissed me in front of the precinct." 

"All right, Jim! That's so romantic." 

"And so accidental. He just did it out of habit, because when he gives me a ride here--" 

"Don't be so sure it was accidental. You know, sometimes our subconscious mind makes us do things we wouldn't ordinarily do. Jim's a pretty up-front kind of person, isn't he?" 

"Yes." 

"Not a good liar?" 

"Professionally, he's a master at it. Personally, he sucks at it." Blair smiled fondly at the thought, and Julie laughed. 

"He's been living a lie by keeping your relationship in the closet. Maybe he outed himself without really knowing it's what he needed to do. But on some level, it wasn't an accident." 

"I don't think Jim wanted to be out at work. Trust me on this one." Blair took a deep breath. "He loves being a cop, and being a gay cop is, like, such a challenge...I don't think he would have come out voluntarily." Blair hated the note of disappointment that showed up in his voice. 

"That hurts, doesn't it?" Julie asked gently. 

"Honestly?" Blair chewed his lower lip a moment before answering. "Yeah, it does. I know it shouldn't, and I told Jim I would play things however he wanted to about that...it's just...I don't know. I wish he was proud of us, in front of his friends." Blair smiled a little sheepishly. "Man, that psych major is sure paying off for you. You'll make a bundle once you go into practice." Blair knew he was blushing, and Julie grinned. 

"I just know how I'd feel if someone I was with didn't tell their friends about it--kept it a secret. It would bother me a lot." Julie sighed. "I didn't mean that Jim wanted all the hassles that would go with it when I said he subconsciously wanted to come out. What I meant was that he's all sticky-sappy in love with you, and he's a very straightforward person, and I think those two things together made him _want_ to come out. Not that he wanted to be harassed, but that he was tired of the...duplicity." 

"That makes sense." Blair nodded, then caught sight of the clock on Julie's wall. "Oh, man, I better get going. I've got about ten _thousand_ things to do before Jim gets home." 

"You guys are _so_ married." Julie shook her head, grinning again. 

"Yeah, we are, aren't we?" Blair replied, standing up and heading for the door with a big stupid grin of his own. 

"Hey--if I hear anything on the grapevine about Nicole, I'll fill you in. Meanwhile, let me give my sister a call and pump her for information." 

"Don't tip her off, whatever you do." 

"Blair." Julie raised her eyebrows. "Give me some credit here, huh?" 

"Wouldn't underestimate you for a second, pal," he answered, chuckling a little as he left the apartment. 

* * *

Blair visited a couple other friends from campus, trying to find out something more about Nicole Pierce. As dinnertime drew near, he found his visit with Julie had been the most fruitful, so he called it a day and stopped at the grocery store to pick up something to fix for dinner. It was Jim's turn to cook, but Blair decided to surprise him by having it done when he got home. Of course, that also gave them more of the evening free to kiss, cuddle and make out on the couch under the pretense of watching television. 

Blair gathered his purchases, picked out a bottle of decent wine, and made his way through the check-out lines. His stomach was still twisted in a knot about the whole situation at Rainier, but a part of him couldn't contain the happiness he felt about his life with Jim. Julie was right--they were "so married". And they'd even exchanged vows the night before...and he'd come to this morning not feeling sore from the sex. He certainly knew it had happened, but it wasn't painful. He knew he'd have to analyze what they did _right_ later, but that would be much more fun in a different setting than the grocery store--and with Jim there to...experiment. 

With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he paid the cashier and bounced happily out toward his car with his single fat grocery bag firmly in his arms. He nearly dropped it when he caught sight of his car. 

Blair made a habit of parking the Volvo at the most remote point of most parking lots. First of all, he figured it was good exercise since he spent most of his time away from Jim at a computer or in a library or pacing _very slowly_ in front of a class. Most of all, he wanted to preserve the pristine paint job from the dings and dents of careless fellow parking lot dwellers. 

The pristine paint job would no longer be a concern. The side of the car he could see sported at least three long lines that appeared to have been gouged in with a razor blade or other sharp object. A white, spray-painted message declared: "Cascade Isn't For Perverts". 

//Breathe, Sandburg,// Blair coached himself. //You are _not_ going to lose it in a parking lot because of your car. Get a grip. Put your groceries on the cement next to the car and call Jim on your cell phone. Don't disturb the evidence. Don't touch the car...even to see how deep those gouges really are...God, why my car?!// Blair swallowed the inclination to react emotionally. He had already called Jim in a state of panic once that day. He wasn't going to do it again. 

He dialed Jim's work number on the cell phone and waited impatiently while it rang. Ryf picked up Jim's phone. 

"Ellison's desk, this is Ryf," the voice replied. 

"It's Blair. I need to talk to Jim if he's there." 

"Hey, Blair. He's with Simon right now, but he said he was on his way home after that. You want to hold on or catch him at home?" 

"Could you ask him to meet me at the parking lot in front of The Food Center over on Elm? It's official. Somebody vandalized my car, big time." 

"Aw, man, what a bummer. I'll go tell him." 

"Thanks. Tell him I'll wait." 

"Hey--don't touch the car. I'll make sure some lab guys get over there in case we can lift anything from it." 

"Thanks, Ryf. I kinda figured I should leave it alone." 

"Sit tight. It shouldn't be too long." 

Blair waited by his ruined car, exchanged a few words about the damage with a bag boy who was retrieving carts, and finally saw Jim's truck pull in, followed by Simon's car and a crime lab van. //Why didn't Ryf send the SWAT team along, just in case,// Blair thought with a fond shake of the head. 

"Oh, man..." was Jim's first comment as he got out of the truck and saw the car. Both sides had matching damage, and the hood and trunk also sported what appeared to be deep scratches. 

Simon directed the lab team to get started, while Jim moved over toward his uncharacteristically quiet partner. The smaller man had looked nothing short of pathetic, sitting cross-legged on the cement next to his ruined car with his bag of groceries. 

"You okay, Chief?" He squatted down closer to Blair's level, taking in the somber face under the small glasses, the stray strand of hair that had escaped the pony tail--a sure sign that Blair had been nervously fidgeting with it while he waited. 

"I think my butt's numb, but yeah, I'm okay." He accepted the hand Jim offered to pull him up. 

"How long were you inside?" Jim slipped an arm around his partner's shoulders as they moved a little closer to where the car was being inspected for evidence. 

"About twenty minutes, I guess. I wanted to get some stuff for dinner. Surprise you," Blair said, smiling a little ironically. "Guess I managed the surprise part, anyway." 

"It looks pretty clean, Captain," one of the lab guys announced. "We've lifted some prints, but other than that..." He shrugged, and Simon nodded. 

"Thanks, guys. Check the prints against Sandburg's and Ellison's--yeah, better check against mine too," Simon added, obviously recalling Blair giving him a ride to pick up his car from the shop a few days earlier. "Anyone else?" He turned to Blair. 

"Not that I've given rides to. I don't know if anyone else has touched it since. It's been in lots several times." 

"Okay. Let me hear the results on the prints ASAP," Simon directed at the technician who was picking up the last of their supplies. He nodded an answer, and with that, the three men were left standing there around Blair's mauled car. Jim approached it first and tested the scratches with his finger. Blair seemed to be just staring at it. 

"These are pretty deep. Probably a knife." 

"Who else have you two told recently?" Simon asked, sitting against the hood of his own car. 

"Some people at the University," Blair spoke up. "But they've known for a while now. Plus, this might not be related to Jim and me." 

"Meaning...?" Simon prodded, raising his hands slightly in a questioning gesture. 

"Meaning a student just accused me of sexual harassment. I didn't do anything to her, but she's claiming I did. And if she had a pissed off boyfriend or relative...I don't know." 

"That's a possibility." Jim agreed, rising from his crouch by the side of the car. 

"You want to handle this, Jim?" 

"You bet I do." 

"Okay." Simon rose and moved around to the driver's side of his car. "I'll tell the lab to get a hold of you with those print results. Just don't forget there are a couple of pesky little murders on your desk right now." 

"I won't," Jim responded, smirking a little at Simon's assumption that Blair's wounded Volvo would probably be his top priority. The captain was right, and all three knew it. 

After Simon left, Jim turned back to his wilted lover, who was sadly surveying the damage, finally venturing a tentative finger out to trace the scratches. 

"It's ruined...I don't see how they can ever fix it," Blair muttered. 

"Here. Take the truck and follow me. I'll drive this one over to the police garage, and we'll lock it up in there for tonight." Jim placed his keys in Blair's hand. "We can pick up some take-outs for dinner and go home, huh?" 

"I was going to cook...I got stuff for dinner," Blair replied a little blandly, indicating the bag that had taken up residence on the ground next to the Volvo. 

"Anything perishable?" 

"Nah. I was going to make those chicken fajitas you like. We already had the chicken." 

"Okay. We'll put the car in the garage and then go home. We'll cook together. Okay?" 

"Yeah." Blair forced a little smile and Jim leaned over and planted a quick kiss on his forehead. 

Blair was grateful to Jim for driving the Volvo. It was so like Jim to take the stares and comments of fellow motorists and pedestrians on himself and spare Blair that humiliation. Driving around Cascade labeled as a pervert would have been just about the last straw in what had been a bad day of epic proportions. 

As soon as they were home, both men washed up and started on dinner preparations. Blair seemed to prefer not to discuss the car or anything else, and Jim let the silence stay unbroken. They were together, moving around the small area of the kitchen, bumping into each other from time to time. The love and support needed no words. 

When the food was ready, Jim took out the wine that had been stashed in the freezer for a quick chill while they cooked, and went to look up glasses. There was the sound of shattering glass and a rain of curses from Blair a moment later. He hadn't noticed the white wine on the counter, and when he picked up the pan of rice to dish it up, his elbow sent the wine bottle crashing on the floor. 

"I don't believe this! I spent $20 on that wine! How could I be so goddamn stupid!" He slammed the pan of rice back down on the burner. "This ruins everything! We don't have any more wine. I wanted wine!" 

"Blair. Sweetheart, come on," Jim took him by the shoulders until the troubled face came up so their eyes met. "Is this about the wine? If it is, I'll run down the street to the liquor store and get us a better bottle." He watched as Blair's angry expression faltered a little, and then there was a momentary quiver of the chin before Jim pulled his lover into his arms and held him tightly. "You're entitled to feel bad, baby. It's been an awful day. I know you're tired." Jim's gentle words and the warmth of the embrace were Blair's undoing. Tears flowed freely as he tightened his arms around Jim, and let loose all the tension and misery he'd felt since walking into Tillman's office several hours earlier. 

"I'm sorry," he croaked. 

"No need. Not your fault, sweetheart." Jim let his hand slide into Blair's hair and massage his scalp slowly. "This has been the granddaddy of bad days, hasn't it, love?" he asked, an affectionate smile in his voice. Blair just nodded and held on tighter. "We'll figure out who vandalized the car, and we'll figure out this mess at the U. It's just going to take a little time." 

"I'm...so much...trouble. No wonder...you didn't...want to...come out with...me." Blair clutched handfuls of Jim's shirt in his hands. "This is...a nightmare. I-I'm messing...up your...whole life." 

"We've been through this before, Sandburg. So this time, listen so you get it right," Jim began, with completely feigned sternness in his voice. "You _are_ my life. How many times do I have to tell you that? God, Blair, the only way you'd fuck that up is to leave me. What do you mean I didn't want to come out with you?" 

"You didn't, man," Blair sobbed into Jim's chest. "You never would...have wanted...anybody...to know...at work. It was an...ac--accident that anybody...found out." 

"Oh, man. You really know how to make a direct hit, baby." Jim tightened his hold on Blair and kissed his hair. "Guilty as charged. But it has nothing to do with not loving you enough, or not being proud of you. You have to understand that. It's about telling someone about the most beautiful, precious, perfect part of my life and having them look at me like I just told them something sickening. It's about having what I feel for you reduced to getting my memos printed on pink stationery. It's about holding something that's...sacred between us up for ridicule. And it's about not wanting to spend all my time defending myself or you or us for something that's nobody's goddamn business. It's about shit like this happening to us. It's you whose getting it right now, and oddly enough, from the university, but I'll get my turn. I wish all the turns could be mine because I don't ever want you hurt. It hurts me worse to hear you cry that it hurts to have somebody stick a knife in my guts. So no, I didn't want to come out so we could spend all our time feeling lousy." 

"Do you think...it was somebody...from the U...who messed up the car?" Blair was fighting to regain his voice. 

"The fact that it happened the same day as this whole dilemma with Nicole Pierce, and the choice of words--'pervert' as opposed to 'fag', 'queer'--and it happened away from the precinct...my guess would be the same as yours. Someone on Nicole's side, someone she's lied to and led to believe that you really did something to her... I wish I knew. But we'll find out." 

"This isn't about...the car," Blair choked out. 

"Hey, if somebody did that to my paint job, I'd cry too." Jim's levity brought a little chuckle out of Blair. 

"Think they can fix it?" Blair's voice sounded so small and shaky that Jim didn't have the heart to say he didn't see how in the hell anybody could fix _that_ mess. 

"We'll take it to the best place in town, baby. We'll do everything we can. Okay?" Another nod. 

"I'm sorry." There was a distinctly loud snorkel from Jim's chest. 

"That better be a general apology and not one for blowing your nose on my shirt." Blair laughed a little at that comment as Jim freed one arm and reached behind him for a napkin. "Here, snotface, blow." Jim covered Blair's face from the nose down with the napkin. He was a little disgusted when Blair followed the direction, leaving Jim the task of cleaning him up. //Oh, well, after all the juices we swap, what's a little snot?// Jim thought, smiling as he saw a slightly less devastated Blair emerging from under the napkin. With the nasty part of the task done, Jim kissed away the remains of the tears under Blair's eyes. "You're the most beautiful creature on earth, do you know that?" 

"Yeah, sure, Jim. My eyes are puffed half shut, my nose is running--" 

"Not anymore," Jim corrected. He was rewarded with another smile. 

"I look like hell and you know it." 

"Your bad day is better that most people's best." Jim planted a kiss right between Blair's eyes. "Feel like you could eat something, sweetheart?" 

"I guess. Better get the wine cleaned up first." 

"I'll do it. I don't want you to cut yourself on the bottle. See how cold the stuff is and maybe you can nuke it while I clean this up." 

"Jim, I'm not a child. I can clean up broken glass." 

"I have plans for these hands later, and I don't want them all bandaged up. Humor me." Jim grabbed Blair's hands and kissed the palm of each one. "Okay?" 

"Okay," Blair replied, grinning. 

Dinner was consumed slowly, with the conversation very deliberately steered to something neutral while they ate. Jim described the details of a suspect's prior record, and which leads he was planning to follow in looking for something to solidify his case against the man for the murder of a teenage girl. Blair was all ears. 

With dishes rinsed and abandoned in the sink (a growing habit which Blair considered a personal victory over anal levels of tidiness), they moved to the couch, curled up together and talked over the less pleasant aspects of the day. Blair shared the information Julie had given him about Nicole Pierce, and Jim asked Blair several questions about his students and colleagues and what, if any, backlash he'd gotten from their brief displays of affection on the campus. 

Dr. Tillman was the only vocal negative reaction, and Blair couldn't say he'd really been snubbed by faculty or his fellow students. As for students who had him for a teacher, none of them had mentioned anything or made any remarks. He had no idea if the upper administration knew--or cared--that he was in an "alternative lifestyle". 

Jim admitted that he had been pretty much snubbed by two-thirds of the other cops since the news of their now-infamous "car kiss" had spread. Most of the Major Crimes personnel treated Jim the same as always, with only a couple of women who had been extremely pleasant to him in hopes of catching his eye, losing a little of their friendliness. Cops from other departments who didn't have a reason to like Jim personally or respect him to any special degree beyond their mutual respect for their fellow cops, seemed to be avoiding him or ignoring him unless they were forced into a professional encounter. 

He didn't tell Blair about how he'd spent part of the morning trying to isolate the voice of the man who, in another part of the building, had drawn laughs from other male voices by commenting that "Sandburg must have a deep throat and a tight ass." But he knew the voice, and he'd find the son of a bitch eventually. 

Their lovemaking that night was all about closeness, holding, touching, kissing, reaffirming. They did nothing more than some heavy petting and a little humping to finish things off. 

Jim spent a restless hour or so just watching Blair sleep, listening to his breathing, feeling his heartbeat. He dialed up his sense of touch so he could feel each little thud like a metronome against his chest, and he could feel the tickle of each of Blair's chest hairs as they were moved against Jim's skin in time with the smaller man's respiration. Blair murmured something agitated a couple of times, but a kiss to his forehead and a little caress to his shoulder calmed him into peacefulness again. 

A pain flared in Jim's heart as he wished he could freeze this moment, and never have to go back out into the world and face all the shit that would come down on them just for loving each other. He thought about all the times he'd joked with his friends about someone being queer or a tinkerbell. He'd never had any special prejudice against gays, but he certainly hadn't stood up for their rights either. 

He looked back down at Blair, cuddled up against him, one hand splayed on Jim's chest, silky curls resting on his shoulder. He let his eyes travel the line of shoulder and arm, and as he did, drew up the blanket. Just because he loved to look at the naked flesh didn't mean it wasn't a little chilly to leave Blair's shoulder and arm bare all night. 

The movement brought a little shift and mumble, which settled again quickly. He traced with his eyes the perfect line of Blair's nose, the full lips, then back up to the lashes that dusted the slightly flushed face. He realized he would never love another human being the way he loved Blair, and that no matter what the world would throw ruthlessly at them, it would all be worth it, if even for only this one silent moment in time. 

Tucking his nose into the warm, fragrant curls nearby, Jim Ellison dozed off into a peaceful sleep. 

Continued in part [two](forbetter1.html).


	2. Chapter 2

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into four parts for easier loading.

## For Better or For Worse

by Candy Apple

Continued from part one.

* * *

For Better or For Worse - part two  
by Candy Apple

Blair rode in to work with Jim in the morning. He had most of the day free to spend at his partner's side, and they had a full roster of leads to follow up on Jim's latest murder case. 

The lab report was on Jim's desk from the inspection of Blair's car. The only prints were Blair's, Jim's, and a couple partials that looked like matches for Simon's. There were many other fragments of prints, but nothing identifiable, and most likely just the residue that would be found on most cars parked in public lots on a regular basis. 

Ryf and Brown, who were on their way out, wanted to go down and take a look at Blair's car, so Blair accompanied them to the garage. Ryf's uncle owned one of the best body shops in Cascade, and he promised to stop by and talk to him about giving Blair the best deal he could on repairs. 

The three men inspected the damage, and Blair felt more and more like he was bringing everyone to see a terminal patient. They all tried to be upbeat, but didn't sound too convinced that there was any point in trying to repair the damage. The insurance company was sending someone later that day for a look, so at least Blair could get some kind of idea if he was going to face cooperation or an uphill battle. With a $1,000 deductible, he wondered if it even mattered. He didn't have the money, and he didn't want to cost Jim another big lump of cash. 

He thanked Ryf for the help in getting a good price at BodyWorks, his uncle's shop, and waved the two of them off for the day. With a sigh, he left his wounded car and made his way back toward Major Crimes. 

"Hey, Sandburg!" A voice called from behind him as he made his way down the first floor hall toward the stairs. He turned around to see an officer he didn't recognize. 

"That's me." 

"Ellison's in the men's room. He's had some kind of spell or something--" 

Blair flew too quickly down the hall to notice the other man's predatory grin. 

"Jim?" Blair burst through the door of the men's room, and saw only two cops he vaguely recognized from Vice, plainclothes detectives, leaning against the wall, staring at him. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but he couldn't see all the stalls from where he stood, and if Jim was really sick... He moved forward a bit, and the door slammed and locked behind him, guarded by a muscular man about the same height as Simon Banks. "Hey, what is this?" Blair asked, trying to keep his voice steady. 

"We want you gone. We don't care what kind of tricks you're doing for Ellison, but your kind isn't welcome here," one of the men against the wall announced. He was approximately forty years old, sporting a short beard and longish brown hair. He was tall and well-built, though obviously dressed for another day on an undercover job in his all-black leather motorcycle gear. 

"Look, just call off the guard here and let me leave quietly, and I won't say anything about this to Banks. You've made your point." 

"You sucking him off too?" The other wall-dweller spoke up. This man was slightly younger than his cohort, with short blond hair and a mustache, dressed in a shirt and jeans. "You must be a busy little whore up there in Major Crimes, huh? Tell me, which one gets to fuck your pretty little ass?" 

"Must be Ellison," the one by the door added before Blair could open his mouth. Not that his protests would have been worth anything. The door man straightened a little from his slumped position, towering over Blair. A fairly unattractive man with greasy black hair and piercing eyes, he was dressed similarly to the bearded man against the wall. "He always liked a nice piece of ass." He reached out to grope Blair and laughed when the smaller man dodged him. "I suppose he told you you were the first, huh? One of Jim's favorite perks when he worked Vice was fucking those little male whores down on the waterfront for free." 

"You shut up, you fucking bastard!" Blair shot back. "That's a goddamn lie and you know it!" 

"Guess he needs to learn a few manners, huh?" The bearded man pushed himself away from the wall where he'd been leaning. "Come 'ere, shorty. Don't make me come and get you." 

"Stay the hell away from me!" Blair ordered, knowing he had no way to back it up. In a moment, the two men from the wall had effectively pounced on him, one stifling his mouth while they dragged him back to one of the stalls. 

"Okay, now, you're going to repeat after me, faggot," the bearded man spat in Blair's ear, as they lowered his head over the toilet bowl. "Say, 'I'm a cocksucking whore'. Say it!" The hand was removed from his mouth. Assessing that they were going to torment him in some way no matter what he said, Blair opted for dignity. 

"Go to hell," he growled. It was his last breath of air before his face was shoved into the water and held there. When he thought his lungs would burst, he was yanked back by the hair, gasping. Just as he contemplated trying to move his arms, which were effectively pinned behind his back, he felt the cool metal of handcuffs go around his wrists and lock into place. 

"Okay, faggot, you want to play it the hard way." The bearded man squatted next to him, hand still fastened firmly in Blair's hair. The other hand produced a switchblade which was pressed to the captive's throat. "If you scream, you die. Understand? Now, you know what to say. Next time you're going under for a nice long time, so think about it well. Now say it!" 

Blair merely stared at him with fire in defiant blue eyes. 

The bastard made good on his promise. By the time he pulled Blair's waterlogged head out of the john, the anthropologist's breath was coming out in harsh rasping gasps. 

"How about this? I'll make it easy for you. You have such a problem with talking. I'm going to let you off the hook for that. Even give you a chance to make a couple bucks, if you do everything right." The man leaned in close to Blair, leering at him as he gasped and tried to get his thundering heart under control. Water from his soaked hair kept streaming maddeningly into his eyes. "Since you won't admit that you're a cocksucking whore, we'll give you the chance to prove it. What's your rate, anyway? Can't be worth more than a twenty, I'd say." 

"You better leave me alone--" 

"Or what? What're you gonna do about it, you worthless little faggot? Do you think anybody in this department is going to take your word against ours? Do you think that there isn't one guy in this building, with the possible exception of Ellison, who uses you to get off, that wouldn't like to kick your sorry ass out the front door?" 

"Why are you doing this?" Blair finally asked, hating how hopeless his voice sounded. The question seemed to catch by surprise even the ringleader who held him there. The effect was not lasting. 

"Just wanna see what you've got that's good enough to turn a good cop queer. Come on." He and the other leather-clad man dragged Blair out of the stall and deposited him on his knees on the floor of the bathroom. "Keep a good grip on him," he directed the other two, who took over holding Blair down, one of them using his ponytail as leverage to pull his head back. 

"JIIIMMM!" Blair got one yelp most of the way out before a hand clamped back over his mouth and a foot landed squarely in his stomach, doubling him over. 

"I thought I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut! Didn't I?" The bearded man lowered himself to a squat and seized Blair's face by the chin, yanking up while the other man helpfully pulled back on Blair's hair. In their estimation, Blair's hoarse outcry wasn't enough to carry beyond the locked bathroom door. 

Blair's mind was taken off the searing pain in his stomach when the man rose again and unfastened his belt. 

"You better not put that thing in my mouth if you want to keep all of it," he stated as evenly as his voice would let him. That brought an uproar of laughter from the group. 

"Fiery little bitch, aren't ya?" The bearded man laughed. "Maybe we _do_ need to teach him a few manners first. Can't have him misbehaving on us. What do you say, guys?" 

* * *

**"JIIIMMM!"**

Ellison's head shot up from the file he was reading. Blair. Blair calling for help. //From where? It was too fast...// 

Jim was out of his seat in a flash, rushing out into the hall, though he didn't really know where to go. He opted to retrace Blair's steps toward the garage. The fact his partner had been gone for so long wasn't odd. Blair often got sidetracked visiting with someone in another department when he ran an errand. 

Dialing up his senses, Jim worked at sorting out the normal noises of the building and listening for Blair's heartbeat, tuning up his sense of smell for the familiar scent. 

It wasn't Blair that grabbed his attention first. It was the voice of the man Jim had been unable to locate before who had made the crude remark about Blair. And it was coming from the men's room. It was then that he picked up Blair's very accelerated heartbeat coming from the same direction. 

* * *

"Strip him," the bearded man ordered, leering down at Blair. "Let's have a look at the merchandise first. Get a gag on him, because I'm going to have a smoke, and I need an ashtray. All these damn 'no smoking' rules, you know." 

Blair struggled furiously but in futility as the other two men began pulling at his shirt, popping buttons and producing a knife to slice it off him, since his hands remained bound behind his back. The bearded man was lighting his cigarette, then drawing on it hard to show Blair the red hot flare at the tip. He was left to wonder what part of his body would feel that first, as his shirt was stripped away and rough hands reached for the button of his jeans while the other man used a strip of Blair's own shirt to gag him. 

The door of bathroom burst open and crashed against the wall, and in an instant the form of Jim Ellison, gun drawn, appeared in the doorway. 

"Nobody move! Hands up, now! Against the wall, all of you. You goddamn motherfucking perverts! You know the position, assholes! Just give me an excuse to kill you!" 

"Hey, Ellison, lighten up," the bearded man suggested as he raised his arms, cigarette still hanging out of his mouth. "Just wanted to have a little share in the action. You used to tip me off to the best male whores when we worked Vice together. Didn't think you'd mind sharing this one." 

Jim fired his gun, the bullet buzzing just past the man's ear. It was an easy shot for Jim, with his heightened senses, but appeared impossibly close to his target, who, with wild eyes, joined his friends, hands against the tiled wall, legs spread. 

The sound of the shot brought two uniforms and a few detectives from the nearby Narcotics Department squad room. By the time they arrived, Ellison had the cuffs on two out of three of the men. 

"Cuff that last bastard," he directed one of the uniforms. "Haul their asses up to Major Crimes. They just got busted for assault and battery, possible sexual assault, oh, yeah--and smoking in a restricted area," he tossed over his shoulder at the bearded man. "You're going down for this, Walker. You're going down so far and so hard, you're going to have to look up to see the fucking basement! Get 'em out of here!" 

"He must be a real fine piece of ass, eh, Ellison?" 

Jim had heard all he could handle, and now he lunged with both hands at Walker's throat, squeezing with a death grip that even the smart aleck cop hadn't anticipated when he'd made his last taunt. 

Four cops pulled Jim off the other man, and by the time they got him marginally calmed down below the homicidal level, he turned back to look after Blair, who was still slumped against the wall, hands bound behind his back, gagged with dripping hair hanging in his face. His shirt lay in tatters on the floor, and he shivered against the cold tile of the wall. His anger at Walker suddenly was pushed to the back of his mind. Blair needed him. 

"It's okay, Chief, it's over," Jim reassured, removing the gag and unlocking the handcuffs. He didn't care how many police officers or other personnel were in the area. He welcomed Blair into his arms and worked at removing his own shirt, draping it around his partner's shaking shoulders. 

"I'm gonna be sick, Jim. Like now," Blair croaked out. 

"Okay. Hold your horses, baby," Jim helped him stand and steered him into the handicapped stall, which gave them both room to hunch over the head and get the door shut behind them. Jim held the wet hair back while Blair vomited convulsively into the toilet. When he'd finished, Jim gathered him into his arms again and gently wiped off his mouth and then the rest of his wet face with a large wad of toilet paper. 

"You two okay in there?" It was Simon's voice. 

"We just need a minute," Jim responded. 

"We've got Walker, Hooper and Patterson upstairs cooling their heels, waiting for you to book them on assault charges. What the hell happened? Do you know how long it'll be before Cameron's all over my ass? Not to mention the Chief." Jim wasn't sure if Simon was more concerned about the Vice Department captain or the Chief of Police. Both had a tendency to be less than pleasant when ired. 

"Again," Blair managed, and Jim hoisted him up just in time for another seizure of what devolved into painful dry heaves. 

"Look, Simon, the three of them cornered Blair in here and half stripped him and did something. I don't know what yet, but he needs time to calm down and stop vomiting before he can make a statement." 

"Oh, man. Is he okay?" 

"You guys, I'm still here, all right?" Blair protested to being referred to in the third person. 

"Sorry, Sandburg," Simon's somewhat less urgent voice came from the other side of the stall door. 

"Just give us a few minutes, and we'll have the full story, okay, Simon?" Jim asked. 

"All right. But I want to see you in my office, ASAP. We've got one hell of a mess to sort out here, Jim." And with that, Simon was gone. 

"Come on. That wet hair's gotta be colder than hell." Jim helped Blair up and steered him out of the booth to lean on the sink a moment. He locked the door to the bathroom and then returned to his shaky partner, pulling the lone straight chair that resided in the corner of the room over to the air dryer on the wall. "Sit here. It's not exactly a professional job, but it'll do." After placing Blair in the chair, Jim hit the button on the dryer and directed it at Blair's soaked head. He used handfuls of paper towel in tandem with the blower to remove as much of the water as he could. 

"He was going to burn me...with his cigarette," Blair finally said as Jim was working on drying his hair. 

"I'm going to kill the son of a bitch," Jim growled, hitting the button to start up the blower again. "Can you tell me what happened, baby?" Jim prodded as he kept working on his drying project. Blair drew the dark blue shirt around his shoulders and seemed to sink down into it. 

"Somebody out in the hall told me that you were in here, sick, and so I came in to help, and when I got in here, the three of them cornered me, locked the door, and started making all sorts of remarks about us...about you." 

"Our relationship, you mean?" Jim tilted Blair's head a little to get another soaked spot dry under the warm air. 

"Yeah, and about...about you in Vice." 

"The whole 'male whore' thing. Yeah, I tipped Walker off to the best male whores on the waterfront. I even picked a few up. And then took them to shelters and worked on busting their pimps. We worked on breaking up a child prostitution ring that included a very large stable of young boys. So that's where he got that quote to toss around." 

"I didn't think you did anything wrong, lover," Blair hastened to add. "I just...wanted you to know what he said. Then they started dunking me in the toilet, trying to make me say I was...that I...that I was a 'cocksucking whore'. I wouldn't say it." 

"Did you take in any water?" Jim started gathering the wildly frazzled but mostly dry hair into a new pony tail, and tied it carefully. 

"If I did, I just puked it out, along with half my stomach lining, I think." 

"Shit. Put your face in a fucking toilet bowl. Damn bastards." Jim led Blair to the sink, lathered up his hands and gently washed and rinsed his lover's face. "Did they touch you, Blair?" He took Blair's chin in his hand and carefully blotted the cleansed face dry with a paper towel. 

"No. You came in...I guess my pants are sorta open, but he was just unzipping my jeans when you came in. Walker--is that the one with the beard?" 

"Yeah." 

"He was going to burn me after they stripped me. I don't know what else they were going to do to me, but I know they planned to make me suck them off. Or at least Walker did. He was unbuckling his belt, but I told him he better not stick it in my mouth if he wanted to get the whole thing back." 

"Good for you, Chief." Jim kissed his forehead. "So that made him turn to the stripping thing?" 

"Yeah. I guess they were going to gag me and torture me for kicks." 

"Get your arms in the shirt. Come on," Jim urged gently. 

"What about you?" Blair looked up at Jim, who was dressed in his jeans and a white t-shirt. 

"I'm okay like this. I can grab my jacket when I get upstairs." 

"Sleeves are kinda long," Blair commented, waving them like flippers at Jim. 

"Picky little fashion critic, aren't you?" He rolled up one sleeve for Blair, and then the other, and finished buttoning the bottom half of the shirt Blair hadn't finished doing himself. "Did you have your glasses when you came in here?" 

"Yeah. I think they fell off in the toilet." 

"Which stall?" 

"That one," Blair pointed to roughly the middle stall, and Jim ducked in and fished the glasses out of the toilet bowl. He washed them off with soap and water and after carefully drying them, gave them back to Blair. After Jim's solicitous attentions, his lover looked very close to normal, with the exception of the long shirt and rolled up sleeves. 

"Come here." Jim held out his arms and Blair went into them gratefully, taking solace in the strong embrace. "I love you, sweetheart. I'm so sorry this happened. It won't happen again." 

"I love you, mine. Even if you can't make promises like that." 

"Yes, Blair, I can," Jim separated them and took Blair's face in his hands. "Because as soon as I book those bastards upstairs, I'm turning in my resignation." 

"No! Jim, you love being a--" 

"Shh." Jim pressed a hand over Blair's mouth and then moved it to quickly kiss his lips. "I love _you_. Being a cop is my job. I can get another job. But this department just became and unacceptable place to work." 

"I don't want you to give up your whole career--" 

"We'll talk about this at home. Right now, you need to come with me and make a statement so we can nail those turkeys." 

"Jim, if I press charges, and you go after those guys to bring them down, you're choosing me over them--over all the guys you work with. You'll be ostracized, man." 

"I'll be a former employee, sweetheart. They'll have to ostracize an empty desk. You and I will be somewhere else, living a halfway decent life together. Come on. First things first. You feel steady now?" 

"As I'll ever feel, I guess." 

"Okay." Jim took Blair's hand and led him out of the bathroom, surprising the other man by continuing to hold on as they made their way to the elevator. He didn't let go until they'd entered the bullpen and he'd deposited Blair at his desk and gone in search of the culprits. He found them, with Cameron, in Simon's office. 

"...to lose three of my top men because they hassled Ellison's boyfriend!" The end of Cameron's angry statement hung in the air as Jim entered the room. 

"Hassled? _Hassled_?" Jim ignored Simon's protest for him to calm down and have a seat. Instead, he paced over to where Cameron stood. The other man was in his mid-fifties, Jim's equal in height, though softer in physique, with receding gray hair. He was basically a tough old buzzard who'd done his time in the trenches and was now residing behind a desk, pushing paper and shooting off his mouth. Or at least that had always been Ellison's assessment of him. "Hassled is being called a few names. _Hassled_ is maybe a few crude catcalls in the hallway. _Hassled_ might even be construed to include getting pushed around a little. But the last time I looked, the definition wasn't broad enough to include trapping an unarmed civilian three on one in the john, holding a his head underwater in a toilet, threatening to force him to perform oral sex, then stripping him with the intention of burning him with a cigarette. Oh, and of course, using department-issued handcuffs to keep him restrained while all this is happening!" Jim spat out angrily, only inches from the other man's face. 

"I wasn't aware it was that serious," Simon spoke up from behind them. "Stan, that's a felonious assault. I can't look the other way for that. Not to mention the fact that it was committed against a civilian. We can't even let this stay within IA." 

"What is this? Is the whole Major Crimes Department controlled by Sandburg's ass?!" Cameron demanded. Jim took a deep breath and refused to take the bait. Cameron wanted to goad him into a free for all, and it wasn't going to happen. At least not here, and not on his terms. 

"If you have an accusation to make," Simon began, the ominous anger in his voice building as he rose from his chair and leaned forward on his desk, "you better lay your cards on the table right now." 

"I'm saying that we have three top notch veteran Vice cops here, and throwing their careers, and what good they can do for this city, down the toilet because they got a little carried away pushing some hippie faggot around in the john is nothing short of ludicrous, Banks!" 

"And I'm saying it's a felony, and Major Crimes is behind the victim 100%, because this was a premeditated, unprovoked, detestable hate crime! We don't need men like that in this department!" Simon bellowed back at the other man, who seemed a little at a loss for how to respond to that. 

"Look, it was a fucking joke that got a little out of hand," Walker spoke up. Until now, the three culprits had been smart enough to sit back and let the captains duke it out. "If we apologize to the kid, does that cover it?" His casual, smiling demeanor didn't faze Ellison, and it certainly didn't impress Banks. Even Cameron rolled his eyes slightly. 

"Oh, that'll be just fine," Jim began sarcastically. "Gee, we're sorry we held your head under water until you damn near drowned. We're sorry we threatened to force you to perform oral sex on us. Gee, we're really gosh darn sorry we started stripping you with the intention of grinding a cigarette into your bare skin. We were just JOKING!" Jim concluded with a bellow. "These three idiots just attacked a civilian. Police brutality charges are hard enough to cope with in the press. But here's a completely innocent civilian who was not under arrest, not committing a crime, and with no criminal record--a police observer, for God's sake! The only reason that we're in here debating how this should be handled and not worrying about damage control with the press is because Sandburg has some misguided sense of loyalty to this department because of his observer status--he's come to view it as 'his' department, like I _used_ to take pride in viewing it as _my_ department. So he's not out on the front steps holding a press conference right now. But let me promise you this. It's going to be out of Blair's hands if these bastards walk away from this with a simple slap on the wrist. After I turn in my resignation, you'll see my face on every goddamned talk show who'll listen, and on the front of every newspaper who wants to print the story of how a brutal hate crime was condoned and covered up at the Cascade P.D. So whatever you two come up with," he gestured at Banks and Cameron, "bear that in mind. I'll be outside, waiting to book these S.O.B.'s when you're done giving them a tea party." Jim stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind him. 

Blair was still sitting at Jim's desk, sipping a cup of coffee Taggert had brought him. The larger man was seated next to Blair, talking to him, and Jim was relieved to see an occasional little smile from Blair. The observer had formed a good friendship with the captain of the Cascade P.D.'s Bomb Squad, and Taggert was hovering over Blair like a very large mother hen when Jim returned to his desk. 

"You need to get him in to have those wrists taken care of," Taggert informed Jim, as if the other man had been remiss in properly caring for Blair's injuries. Blair's wrists were raw and bore one or two open gouges from the handcuffs. "If you've got paperwork, let me run him over to MediQuick and get these fixed up." 

"That'd be great, Joel. I have to see what's happening with Curly, Larry and Moe in there before I go anywhere. We're going to have to do a statement, Chief. But Joel's right. You need to get those wrists taken care of, and I'd like to have a doctor look you over anyway. We'll need some type of medical report for the case." 

"Jim, we don't have to press charges if it would be easier--" 

"Shut up, Sandburg," Joel spoke up. "Come on. We'll get you patched up and then you'll come back and make your statement. Since we aren't legally able to kick those guys' asses around the parking lot, we need you to help us figuratively kick their miserable asses out of the PD." Joel put a hand on the back of Blair's neck and steered him out of the bullpen, grabbing his charge's coat off the rack and stopping to hold it for Blair while he slipped his arms in it. "We'll be back as quick as we can," Taggert tossed over his shoulder to Jim, who just waved the off with a smile. The friendly support of someone else in the department was good for Blair right now, even if Jim would have preferred to hover over his lover himself. 

Moments later, Cameron and his three men exited the office with Simon hot on their heels. Jim was delighted when his captain gave the order for him to book them on the charges, and provide copies of the paperwork to IA. The two captains oversaw the process, lest there be any insinuation later that Ellison hadn't followed the proper procedures. 

The three men were considerably less arrogant as they were led off to a holding cell pending the arrival of their attorneys. Jim was frankly a bit surprised that Cameron hadn't pushed to spare them that indignity. When Simon returned upstairs with a somewhat triumphant smile, he announced that the holding cell was his idea, and with the threat of the press hanging over them, Cameron had folded and agreed. Most importantly, when consulted by phone, the Chief agreed, stating that "We're in the middle of a potential media disaster. Let's have no rocks for the press to look under if this goes public." 

"Jim, you aren't seriously considering resigning?" Simon asked quietly. 

"Frankly, Simon, this is the last place I want to be right now." 

"That's understandable. As soon as we have Blair's statement, you two can take off. He's pretty shaken up and your nerves are shot for the day." 

"I mean that in a more long-term sense. I was willing to risk name-calling, harassment, even blatant ostracism to stay on the job _and_ have my relationship with Blair. But I won't sacrifice Blair's safety. Which, of course, means either giving him up or giving the job up. Breaking up with Blair isn't an option." 

"Given what's happened, I don't think--" 

"Simon, come on, be realistic. Do you know how many guys would like to hang Sandburg out to dry? They've got some kind of twisted idea that he's this kinky sex machine that's managed to turn a straight cop gay--or a good cop bad, same thing to them--and they're all out to make him pay for that. These guys are just the first and the most aggressive. Once they're busted, how long will it be before some of their friends want revenge? And they'll be more subtle, sneakier." Jim shook his head. "No, Simon. This was a disaster today, in more ways than one." 

"So you're going to let them win?" 

"The only way they're going to win is if they either split up the relationship or seriously hurt Blair in some way. Those are the outcomes they're looking for. I'm not willing to risk his life or his safety for a principle." Jim leaned back in his chair. "I'll see this thing through with the case against Walker and company, but then I'm out of here." 

"I wish you wouldn't do that, Jim. There's no way we're ever going to change anything if we don't push ahead. Man, that's been the case all through history with people who were the object of bigotry. If you make a little inroad, you gotta keep pushing it." Simon sat on the edge of Jim's desk, shaking his head slightly. "There's been an inroad made here, Jim. Even the Chief got behind prosecuting these guys." 

"Because he was afraid of the press. Dammit, Simon, it wasn't because Blair was attacked, and it wasn't because they were infringing on our civil rights, it was because he didn't want the media to crucify him. Plain and simple." 

"So that's a start, isn't it?" 

"I've been doing some thinking. Maybe it's because I'm settling down into a relationship that's permanent, maybe I'm...I don't know, ready to be domestic. But I've been thinking a lot about making a change. Maybe buying a house, with some land, getting away from the danger and the risk. Maybe it never mattered to me before if I got a bullet in the head. It matters now because there's someone who depends on me, just like I depend on him. And my staying in this line of work is putting him on the line too." 

"If the two of you hadn't been outed by accident, you wouldn't be resigning." 

"No, you're right. But that doesn't mean it isn't a good decision. Sometimes things happen for a reason." 

"You're really determined about this." 

"I told Blair we'd talk about it at home later, but after today, I'm pretty much convinced." 

"He isn't going to be happy knowing he caused you to quit." 

"He will be if he knows it's what I want." 

"Is it really?" 

"I don't do this whole double life thing well, so it's just as well it was brought out in the open. But that's easy for me to say because I didn't spend the morning with my face in the toilet." 

"Maybe the answer is for you to be a cop and let Blair go back to being an anthropologist. You're certainly life partners now, so it's not like your working partnership is all there is anymore." 

"It's no less important to me than it was before. Maybe I'm just being selfish, wanting it all." 

"I just think you should take time out to think it through. And I know you've got other things going on with Sandburg at the University. Any progress on that little dilemma?" 

"Not really. I'm running checks on a few people," Jim responded, catching Simon's brief gesture of covering his ears. "And then there's the Volvo. I don't know if that came from here or Rainier." 

"Why don't you take a vacation, Jim? Take the kid somewhere and get away from this. Talk it over--" 

"We can't. They'll be hauling him up before a review board pretty soon at the U. Damn, this is so _wrong_. Blair gives his all to those students. He's going to be an amazing professor someday. It isn't fair for his reputation to be shot to hell by a lie." 

"He wouldn't be the first." Simon stood up. "Let me know if there's anything I can do." 

"Thanks, Simon. Your support means a lot." 

"Think this decision over carefully, Jim. There are a lot of people here who _are_ on your side. Don't discount that." 

"We won't," Jim responded, smiling slightly. 

* * *

Blair was returned by Taggert, safe and sound, with white gauze-wrapped wrists, looking a little paler yet than he had when he left. 

"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked as Blair handed the larger man his coat, which Jim hung on the rack for him. 

"Joel took me into the coffee shop near the MediQuick and tried to get me to eat some toast and milk, to settle my stomach. Didn't work that way. We got a block down the road from the restaurant, and I left it by the curb, if you know what I mean." 

"What did the doctor have to say?" Jim pulled out a chair for Blair and then sat down close to him, draping an arm on the back of it. 

"He said I was okay, that I was probably just throwing up because of nerves. He did ask for a sample of the water to run through the lab. He wanted to know what kind of cleaning chemicals are used in the toilets here in case the vomiting was a reaction to something I took in. He said even if that was the case, unless my symptoms got worse or more developed, I should be okay. He thinks my stomach should be better by tonight, and if I'm still throwing up then, I should go to the emergency room." 

"We'll get him the sample right away. How about that blow you took to your stomach? Does that have anything to do with it?" 

"It just makes it hurt when I throw up, but he said he didn't feel any signs of bleeding or serious damage. He _did_ say we'd just have to wait and see if I have any ill effects from any bacteria I might have taken in." 

"How're you feeling now, sweetheart?" Jim laid a hand lightly on Blair's stomach. "This guy settling down a little?" 

"A little. Think I'll wait on the food a while longer." 

"Tell you what. Let's get this statement over with, and I'll take you home. Simon gave me the rest of the day off so we could get our heads together." 

"Sounds good." Blair smiled a little. 

"How about a nice hot bath and a shampoo?" 

"And then we can cuddle on the couch a while?" Blair whispered the question. 

"Long as you want." 

"I think we should get this show on the road then," Blair responded, grinning. 

Blair gave his statement with Simon and a stenographer present. While Jim asked the actual questions and set the pace of the interview, Simon wanted to be sure there were no questions raised as to the appropriateness of Jim taking a statement from his lover. 

Walker, Hooper and Patterson's attorneys arrived while Blair was giving his statement. The three men would be arraigned on the charges late that afternoon. It was almost a sure thing they would be released on bond pending the trial, and Jim acknowledged there was a very real possibility they wouldn't actually end up doing time. Blair wasn't seriously injured, and none of the men had prior records. They did, however, have a few police brutality incidents in their histories, and that would be the angle the D.A. would use--that they engaged in a pattern of violent behavior that was now expanding to include innocent civilians not even accused of crimes. 

The ride back to the loft was fairly silent. Blair's stomach had settled for the moment, and neither man really knew what to say about all that had happened. It was unspoken between them that there were many significant decision to be made, and Blair still faced the issue of Nicole Pierce's inexplicable accusation. 

When they arrived home, Jim closed and locked the door behind them, hung up their coats, and led Blair into the bathroom. 

"I'm so sorry you had to go through this, sweetheart," Jim murmured against Blair's ear. "I love you." He kissed the ear he'd whispered into and then moved away to start the water in the bathtub. 

"You gonna join me?" Blair asked, smiling. 

"If you want." 

"I want," Blair replied, unbuttoning his shirt as Jim rose from his task of adjusting the water temperature. "Jim, I don't know if...I don't really feel like...doing anything right now. If that's okay." 

"Of course it's okay, baby. I was just planning on us getting close and relaxing a little. Are you sure they didn't touch you?" Jim caught Blair's face in both hands and raised it gently so their eyes met. 

"Just a little while they were undressing me. They didn't have time to...I guess it's just that I know they were going to force me to suck them off...I just feel sort of...crawly." 

"Understandable, sweetheart." 

When both men had dispensed with their clothing, Jim settled in the tub first and then waited for his partner to sit in front of him, resting against his back. He planned to wash Blair's hair, but for now, he let the other man rest. He wrapped his arms around his lover's chest and stomach, careful not to put any pressure on Blair's tender spot. 

"It's okay to doze a little if you want to, love. I won't let you slip." Jim kissed Blair's shoulder and leaned back himself, enjoying the warmth of the water, but most of all, the warmth of the body resting on top of his. 

"Water smells good. Something new," Blair said softly, shifting a little and making himself comfortable to rest there. 

"It's called green tea something. I'm not sure. Green tea therapy, maybe. I found it at the store the other day. Reminded me of you. So I got everything. The shampoo, the bath oil, the lotion..." 

"You don't do things halfway, do you, mine?" Blair rested his hand over Jim's. 

"Nope. All or nothing." 

"Yeah? Well, just having you's having it all, so I want for nothing," Blair said, picking up Jim's hand and kissing it. 

"I never knew loving someone could be so intense it hurt. I know now." 

"I wish it didn't have to be so hard with everybody coming down on us all the time. I don't like making you choose between me and what you love to do." 

"You aren't making me choose, sweetheart. You were ready to back down and not press charges, God love you, just to make my life easier. Any choice I've made is a free one, and I'm happy with it." 

"I don't want you to quit your job, Jim. I'm okay. The guys who did it are getting nailed, and we've got a lot of good friends at the department. Sure, there are some assholes, but we're going to face that anywhere. Even at the U...God, I was so sure that all of _my_ friends and colleagues--because they're all so damned educated and socially aware--were going to accept my lifestyle choice as just that and not treat me differently. I figured it would be your friends that would be the problem." 

"Tillman didn't shove your head in a toilet." 

"Yeah? Well, given a choice, I think I'd rather he did. Besides, Tillman just has a bad attitude. He didn't accuse me of anything. Nicole did." 

"Maybe he put her up to it." 

"I hate to think that." 

"I hate to think that three Vice cops would assault a police observer in the john because of his sexual preference, but that doesn't make it less of a reality." 

"It makes sense, I guess." Blair finally picked up the bath sponge, and Jim straightened, taking it away from him. 

"I want to bathe you--if that's okay." 

"More than okay. I like it when you take care of me." Blair smiled over his shoulder, and Jim tried to remember their agreement not to do anything but be close. He supposed there was nothing really wrong with looking forward to washing Blair's sexy little behind, as long as he didn't do anything his lover was uncomfortable with. 

Jim behaved himself admirably, bathing his lover like he was a treasure made of spun crystal, and gently shampooing the long curls with the new shampoo. It definitely smelled much better on Blair that it did in the bottle. 

Blair took his turn bathing Jim, and the larger man simply closed his eyes and relaxed under the sensations. While a part of him was aroused, another part was enjoying the gentle pampering as an end in itself. Just sharing the gentle intimacy of bathing each other and pressing bare skin to bare skin was feeding both men the strength they needed to go on and face the problems that lay ahead. 

Bundled up in bulky bath robes, they moved out to the kitchen where they made tea and took the steaming mugs into the living room. Jim started up a fire in the fireplace and then returned to the couch, gathering Blair close and bringing the throw over them both. 

"Here, sweetheart, take a sip or two of this." Jim put the mug in Blair's hands and encouraged him to drink a little. "How's the tummy, huh?" He kissed Blair's temple. 

"Still feels a little raw, but better." Blair sipped a little tea. 

"Figured I'd give you a massage later. Maybe that'll help you relax." 

"Sounds good. Right now, I just wanna be close to you." 

"Me too, Chief." Jim took the mug back from Blair and set it aside. "I want you to put out of your mind anything those sick bastards said to you." 

"I know there were just spouting off." 

"Good." 

"Those guys used to work with you, respect you. God, I feel so horrible about messing that up." 

"You didn't mess it up. They did. Got it?" 

"I got it." 

"Good." 

"If you quit the force, what would you do?" 

"Stay home and be your love slave," he responded, nibbling a nearby earlobe. 

"Jim!" Blair had to laugh in spite of being irked at his question getting sloughed off. 

"I have enough work experience, along with my degree...I'll figure something out." 

"If they toss me out at Rainier, I don't know what I'm going to do. With that kind of a reputation, I won't be able to get much of a job in my field. We could end up collecting welfare, man." 

"We'll be okay, Chief. Don't worry about that." 

"I _am_ worried about it, Jim. You can't just quit your job and then I'll end up out on my ass at Rainier and we won't have anything to get by on." 

"First of all, the fat lady hasn't sung yet. It's not over. You might not have any problems at Rainier. We just have to try to get our attention focused back on coping with that situation. Secondly, I have some savings and investments. We aren't going to starve or be on the streets if we're out of work for a little while. Finally, I don't care if we end up living in subsidized housing where I have to use my gun on the cockroaches as long as we're together. But it isn't going to come to that." 

"I wish I could believe that." 

"Trust me, sweetheart. Let me worry about that part of things, okay? You've got enough on your plate." 

"We both do." 

"I want to investigate Tillman. I don't trust that he hasn't figured a way to get rid of a thorn in his side. You and I both know you never touched Nicole Pierce inappropriately." 

"Could we just forget all of it for a while?" Blair's head drooped tiredly against Jim's chest. "Just for a couple hours." 

"Sure thing, baby." Jim squeezed Blair tightly a moment and then relaxed his grip to a firm embrace, keeping the smaller man tucked cozily in the folds of the throw and against the warmth of his own body. 

"I love you, mine." Blair's voice was heavy with fatigue, and Jim knew he was on the edge of sleep. 

"I love you too, sweetheart. With all my heart." 

* * *

Blair stirred and as he started to crawl out of the grip of sleep, he could hear soft music playing. Before he opened his eyes, soft lips kissed each lid, and then dropped down to claim his mouth. He opened his eyes to see Jim crouched there by the couch, still in his robe. 

"How long did I sleep?" 

"Just a couple hours. You needed it." Jim smiled and stroked the tousled curls that caressed Blair's cheek and spilled over his shoulder as he lay on the couch. 

"Wow, candles," Blair commented, grinning as he surveyed the candlelit loft. 

"Dance with me?" Jim straightened and held out both hands. Blair smiled broadly and slid out from under the throw and into the warmth of Jim's arms. The words of the song on the stereo wafted softly around them: 

//These eyes will worship and adore you,  
These hands will love you everyday,  
Darlin', the only guarantee I can make,  
These arms won't let your heart break...// 

In the flickering candle light, holding each other and swaying to the soft music, neither man could picture any problem being so insurmountable that it couldn't be conquered together. 

* * *

Predictably, the three men who had attacked Blair were released on very moderate bond pending trial. They had been suspended from the department without pay. The press got a hold of the story, and before long, every newspaper was chewing on the story of the three veteran cops who were facing felony charges for assaulting a police observer in a men's room at police headquarters. The only thing saving the reputation of the Cascade P.D. was the hard-nosed, by-the-book way the offenders had been dealt with. The Chief of Police was now able to stand amidst the reporters who stalked him for quotes and announce that these charges were most serious, and the accused men were being subjected to due process like any other citizens accused of crimes. 

The issue of Blair and Jim being lovers hadn't entered into it yet, but it was only a matter of time before someone helpfully provided the press with that tidbit. 

Jim ran background checks on Nicole Pierce, her boyfriend, Dr. Tillman and a couple other students Blair thought of who might possibly have grudges against him. So far, they were coming up empty. Tillman contacted Blair to inform him that his hearing would take place on Friday morning of that week, just two days away. 

On Thursday, Julie arrived for her hours working with Blair, grinning widely as she handed him a piece of paper. He was sitting at his desk, trying to keep his mind on a stack of essay exams that didn't really register when the energetic young woman triumphantly plunked a stack of paper in front of him. 

"Pam Patterson." 

"What?" Blair started flipping through the pages. They were copies of the Admissions Office's complete file on one Pamela Jane Patterson. 

"That's the Pam that lives with Nicole." 

"How did you--?" 

"I never reveal my sources." 

"Missy in the Admissions Office?" 

"You're no fun. You already know everybody." 

"Yeah, but not well enough to get this out of her." Blair didn't mention Scott, his spy in the Student Services Office. "Do you know anything about her?" Blair tried to keep the shock from registering on his face when he saw Pam's father's name: Randall Patterson. His occupation was listed as "Detective, Cascade Police Department". 

"I see you spotted who her dad is. Funny he's one of the jerks in the paper for pushing you around." 

"You read about that, huh?" 

"Blair, I'd have to have lived under a rock or been in Europe for the last two days not to have spotted something about that situation. Even with your name not released, it didn't take an Einstein to figure it out. At least, not when I knew you were already having problems." 

"So if Nicole Pierce is roommates, and presumably friends, with Pam Patterson, it would be a perfect set up for Patterson's old man to get at me through the back door. Damn!" Blair slammed his fist on the desk. 

"I thought you'd be glad we had a lead." 

"I'm delighted we have a lead. But this by itself doesn't prove anything, and if Nicole holds up her part of the deal, I'm still screwed." 

"Yeah, well, that's _if_ Nicole holds up her part of the deal." Julie finally tossed her book bag and purse on the floor and sat on the corner of Blair's desk, skillfully placing her rear in the tiny spot not littered with some form of paper or book. "How long do you think it would take for Tillman to have her for breakfast?" 

"Tillman hates me. Why would he pressure her?" 

"What about Dean Ryman? She likes you." 

"She'll send me back to Tillman, since he's the Department Chair. After what he said about Jim and me--" 

"Which was what?" 

"He made some remark about us 'necking' in the parking lot." 

"Oh my God, were you really?" Julie smiled widely as if she thought that would be the most wildly romantic and decadent thing she could envision. 

"Not hardly. Jim kissed me good bye when he dropped me off. Simple, quick, relatively dry little kiss. No tongue." 

"Then he's already biased against you. If you explain that t Dean Ryman, maybe she'll nail Nicole for you." 

"I don't know, Julie." 

"Blair, you have to put some pressure on this bitch before she gets you fired." Julie shook her head, then picked up the copies. "If you won't go to Dean Ryman, I will. I swear to God. This whole situation stinks like a week-old tuna sandwich, and you know it." She plunked the papers back down for emphasis and then stood up. "You've got to fight this with everything you've got. Personally, I think Dr. Tillman will be on your side against Nicole if she's a fraud, because she's using him and the whole faculty review board to harass you--probably for personal gain. I imagine Pam's screwball father is probably paying her a nice little lump of money to do this. Or he's letting her off a drug charge. Nicole's parties are rarely drug-free, from what I've seen and heard." She sighed in exasperation. "What's wrong with you anyway?" 

"I'm fucking up Jim's whole life. It doesn't seem right for me to fix this all up just right for myself and go on like nothing ever happened while he loses the respect of 75% of the people he works with." 

"So does that mean that Jim wants you to suffer just because things are getting hot for him? Somehow I don't picture that." 

"No, of course he doesn't. But I don't feel right to have everything work out for me while everything is so...shitty for him." 

"Maybe if things are straightened out here, he can get his mind back on straightening out his mess. Did that ever occur to you? He's spending half his time trying to figure out what's going on with you, and that's distracting him from his job and from getting his own problems taken care of." 

"I guess that's possible." 

"So who are you going to see--Tillman or Ryman?" 

"Ryman. Tillman's going to want to know where I got the information on Pam's parentage. Dean Ryman will let me plead the Fifth," Blair concluded, sliding his chair back and jumping up to get his jacket for the walk to the Student Services Building. "Want to go along for moral support?" 

"Sure. I'll walk over there, and then I can wait for you in the Commons." 

"Great." Blair grinned and held the door as Julie passed through it. For the first time in days, he felt marginally cheerful and somewhat hopeful that maybe the screwed up mess that was passing for his life could get straightened out. 

Charlotte Ryman was a tall, statuesque woman in her late fifties. Her imposing demeanor and tailored business suits, upswept graying hair and commanding presence masked a very kind and sympathetic disposition. She had the ability to verbally shred a deviant student worthy of such a tongue-lashing, but also to sympathetically listen to the problems of a student who was troubled by emotional or academic turmoil. 

Blair generally brought out the best in her, though during his early years at Rainier when he'd still had a little growing up to do, he'd had occasion to see her wrath unleashed. It was not a pretty sight. 

Kelsey, Dean Ryman's secretary, invited him to have a seat while she called in on the intercom to let her boss know that Blair was there and would like to see her. 

"She'll be with you in a few minutes, Blair," Kelsey informed him before going back to her typing. 

"Thanks, Kelsey." Blair slumped back in the chair and tried to figure out what he was going to say first, and what he really wanted Charlotte to do. His thoughts were interrupted by the woman herself. 

"Blair, come in," she invited from the doorway of her office. Blair rose and entered the room while she closed the door behind him. "Have a seat." She indicated a chair, and took a seat herself on the end of the nearby couch in the informal seating area distanced a bit from her rather imposing desk and wingback desk chair. 

"I'm sorry to just drop in like this, but I've got a real problem." 

"I've heard. Nicole Pierce has made some serious charges against you. Under the circumstances, I approved her dropping your class." 

"They're phony. I need your help to prove that, though," Blair shot back, his nervousness sending out the sentences almost together in one breath. 

"Why don't you calm down and start at the beginning? Would you like some coffee? It's decaffeinated," she quipped. Blair had to laugh a little. 

"No, thanks." He took a deep breath. "If you've heard about Nicole, you've probably heard that I'm involved in a relationship...a relationship with another man." 

"I've heard a few rumors. Are you happy?" 

"Oh, yeah," Blair responded, suddenly fearful his face might split with the sappy grin that decorated it. 

"Then I'm glad for you." She smiled warmly. "But I also know that can still cause some difficulties." 

"Yeah, it causes some big ones. See, Jim--my partner--is a detective, and same sex relationships aren't exactly condoned in police departments. So we've both gotten our share of harassment. You know that case pending against the police detectives right now for assaulting an observer in a restroom?" 

"I read about that." 

"Well, I was the observer. And they went after me because of my relationship with Jim." 

"I hope you weren't seriously hurt--well, obviously you weren't, since you're here." 

"No, fortunately, I wasn't. But where this is significant is that one of the detectives who attacked me is Randall Patterson. His daughter is Pamela Patterson, a student here. Pamela Patterson is roommates with one Nicole Pierce." 

"And suddenly it becomes clear why a student who holds no other viable grudges against you decides to target you for false sexual harassment charges," Charlotte concluded, nodding. 

"You checked out Nicole?" 

"I looked over her academic and incident report records. While there's nothing exemplary, she hasn't been here long enough, nor taken any prior classes from you, to form a grudge. Is she passing your current class?" 

"Yes, she's pulling about a B-minus right now." 

"What is it you think is happening here?" 

"Another student has told me that Nicole quite frequently has certain...controlled substances at her parties." 

"There's an interesting piece of news," Charlotte commented, raising her eyebrows a little. 

"Well, I'm thinking that Pam's dad is either getting her off the hook for something or is paying her, or both." 

"It would be helpful to know which, if we're going to break Nicole." Charlotte concentrated a moment. "Perhaps Nicole isn't the one we should target. Pamela might be susceptible to a little pressure, and if we can get her to level with us, chances are good that she'll know if Nicole is getting money or legal help from Detective Patterson." 

"Do you really think Pam would squeal on her father?" 

"I'm not sure. I have to give this some serious thought. I've met Nicole, since she was on probation for a while regarding a drunk and disorderly party she hosted a while back. She isn't the strongest personality I've ever encountered. I don't recall meeting Pamela. I'll look over her records and see what I can come up with." 

"I suppose we could confront the father." 

"Well, he's smart enough to know that we need proof. But perhaps if we scared it out of Nicole, and she admitted to Pamela's involvement, and _then_ we throw it at the father, telling him that his little girl's head is on the chopping block for being involved in bringing false charges against an instructor... If he cares anything about her at all, he might admit to being behind it just to get her out of hot water." 

"You mean you'd offer that deal--if he talked, you wouldn't punish Pamela?" 

"I would tell him that I could forgive a daughter being blinded by her devotion to her father and becoming involved in something dishonest. However, if he refuses to take responsibility, we have sufficient evidence to dismiss Pamela from Rainier for conduct that is not only unacceptable under every code of conduct we've ever maintained, but is also bordering on criminal." 

"Wow. That might actually work." 

"If he's any kind of father at all, it will." 

"Forgive me if I don't have a lot of faith in his decency as a human being." 

"Everyone has his Achilles heel. We just have to hope that Pamela is his." Charlotte sighed. "How are you holding up through all this?" 

"Okay, I guess. Don't have much choice," Blair shrugged. 

"None of us do, really. Life throws things at us, and it's up to us to handle them." Something that might have been called "maternal" passed over Charlotte's features briefly. For all his education and his status as a teaching fellow, Blair was still a student himself, and a student with serious problems. From her early days as a counselor until her present job as Dean of Students, she had spent a whole career listening to, and trying to console and assist troubled students. "If you need to talk, I hope you'll feel free to stop by the office. That's why I'm here--to help students--part of the title and everything," she concluded, smiling slightly. 

"Thanks," Blair replied quietly, not sure why he felt his throat closing a little. Maybe for that moment he missed his own mother, or maybe it was just the feeling of having someone in a high place at Rainier on his side that gave him a rush of relief that was almost pungent. 

"For all our progress, this society still holds a lot of cruel prejudices. I know it isn't easy trying to run against the wind, so to speak. Tires one out very quickly." 

"I just...I just wish people didn't make an issue out of it. It shouldn't matter. I don't write or lecture or study or grade differently now than I did before Jim and I...got involved. He isn't any less efficient in his job than he was before." 

"Bigotry is rarely based on sound statistical and performance data, Blair. You know that as well as I do." 

"Yeah, I do." He smiled slightly. "Thanks a lot for your help, Charlotte." 

"Don't mention it. I want this situation to be resolved justly. The hearing is set for day after tomorrow, right?" 

"Right." 

"I'll get to the bottom of this situation with Pam and Nicole by then." 

"Thanks again," Blair repeated, following her lead as she stood. 

"Let me know if you come up with any new information that could speed things along." 

"I will." Blair was still smiling slightly as he left the Dean's office, and when Julie spotted him walking briskly across the commons, she brightened immediately. 

"Man, you look like a different person." 

"Sounds like Dean Ryman's going to give me a hand with this mess." 

"She'll get to the bottom of it. I know a few people who've had to go one on one with her, and she generally wins." 

"Tell me about it," Blair rolled his eyes. 

"What'd you do?" Julie demanded immediately as they made their way across the campus. 

"Oh, man, if you think I'm telling you that...!" Blair laughed and shook his head. With Julie continuously prodding him, the freezing air biting into his skin and a smile on his face, Blair felt "normal" for the first time in days. 

Continued in part three.


	3. Chapter 3

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into four parts for easier loading.

## For Better or For Worse

by Candy Apple

Continued from part two.

* * *

For Better or For Worse - part three  
by Candy Apple

Blair parked the rental car Jim had presented him with that morning in the garage beneath headquarters. He figured it was only fair to share the good news with Jim, since his lover had been almost more stressed out over Blair's career than Blair himself had been. 

He started away from the car when he found himself surrounded by three plainclothes cops. Knowing they were there to harass him just by their demeanor, he let his irritation with the situation come through loud and clear. 

"What is it? Do all of you Neanderthals travel in packs or what?" He started to push past them but the one closest to him pushed him back against the car. 

"You're not testifying against Walker, Hooper and Patterson," he informed Blair in a cloud of breath that included tobacco and some sort of greasy Mexican food. 

"The hell I'm not. Now get out of my way." 

"When we've reached an understanding." He pushed Blair back against the car again and leaned on it with an arm extended on either side of Blair's shoulders. He was older by a few years, and roughly the same height as Jim. His other two friends weren't quite as tall, and both looked like they spent most of their time doing paperwork and eating donuts. 

"Understand this," Blair retorted, bringing his knee up full force into the man's groin. As he doubled over with pain, Blair swung his right fist with all his strength into the jaw that was lowered to just the right level. Once that blow had turned the stunned man slightly, he clasped both hands together and slammed them into the back of his attacker's head, sending him sprawling on the cement. The other two looked at each other, and then back and Blair, and then to their fallen comrade, who was groaning a little but stunned sufficiently not to move. "You want some?" Blair demanded of them. He was angry enough at that moment to wrestle a grizzly bear, and energized by his success thus far, figured he could take on at least one of the other men who had confronted him. One of the other two turned and walked away, and the other spat out a warning as he helped his reeling friend straighten up and stagger away. 

"You'll pay for this, Sandburg!" 

"Stay out of my face. And you can cram your fucking threats. I'm not interested." Blair pushed past the men easily and strode purposefully toward the entrance to the building. He was wondering when one of them would get his second wind and pounce on him and beat the living shit out of him. 

He was shocked to run into Jim about twenty yards away. The larger man was grinning broadly. 

"How long have you been here?" Blair asked, still rubbing the knuckles on his right hand. 

"I think I came along right about the time you said 'understand this'. It was pretty apparent you had the situation under control." Jim snickered a little. "I think you just established yourself as nobody's doormat, Chief." Jim flopped an arm over Blair's shoulders and Blair's arm came up around Jim's waist. 

"So I did okay, huh?" 

"Well, I guess my days of rescuing you are over." 

"Uh, well, the thing is, Jim--there's such a thing as a lucky shot, man. Don't hang up your cape just yet." 

"How about we still watch _each other's_ backs, huh?" 

"Sounds good," Blair replied, grinning. "I love watching your back." He cleared his throat. 

"Maybe you could teach me a few moves sometimes, huh?" Jim playfully tapped Blair's jaw with his fist. 

"Wouldn't be the first time," Blair shot back arrogantly. 

"You'll pay for that one later, baby," Jim warned, swatting Blair's rear end before they were in view of the other cops. 

"Promises, promises," Blair sighed, leading the way back to Jim's desk. 

"So what are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were going to work at the U and then go home and do some writing." Jim settled in his chair next to Blair and passed his coffee over to the other man. Blair gulped a couple swallows of the warm liquid and sighed as he felt his wind-nipped body thawing out a little. 

"It's cold out there, man." 

"Good night for going to bed early," Jim whispered in Blair's ear as he reached past him to grab a file folder. 

"Want me to go downstairs and call you from the car so we can talk dirty?" Blair whispered back. 

"No. I want to finish this crap up so we can go home and play dirty." 

"Even better. I've got some good news." Blair proceeded to explain his progress at the University with Dean Ryman and her promise to follow up on nailing Patterson's daughter. 

"Should we be handling this instead of her?" 

"No way, man. He'll clam up and hide behind his lawyer if we try to asked him. If the Dean goes after Pam, either she'll snap or her old man will because he'll want to save his little girl from getting tossed out." 

"And we don't have any real proof that Nicole Pierce's charges stem from her connection to the Pattersons, so this probably _is_ the best way." 

"Don't worry about Dean Ryman. She'll have Patterson himself begging for mercy when she's done." 

"Sounds like the voice of experience." Jim chuckled a little. 

"I rattled her cage a couple times when I first started there. _Not_ a good idea, man." Blair shook his head, grinning. 

* * *

"Oh, man!" Jim let out in a gasp as Blair's hot lips worked their way down his spine as he lay on his stomach on the big bed. Blair definitely didn't have the patience to stick to giving a massage for very long, and the book lay forgotten on the other side of the bed. 

Jim, for his part, was delighting in the dual sensations of rubbing his aching arousal against the bed while his back was treated to an expert Sandburg tongue-bath. 

Now that devilish tongue was swirling around his tailbone, as if to tease him with the question of whether or not it would go lower. Jim had no interest in playing any games. If Blair was waiting for him to shamelessly spread his legs in invitation, he wasn't disappointed. 

Purposely bypassing the seam of his lover's buttocks, Blair grinned against the soft flesh of Jim's left cheek as started kissing, licking and nibbling his way over it. Jim was always willing to play fair, and give Blair his turn to top, but he had never actually been thrilled to be in that role. Despite the fact he had always climaxed while Blair was inside of him, the penetration was usually painful and the discomfort after the fact seemed to outweigh the enjoyment of the moment. Blair was certainly perceptive enough to pick up on all that, and therefore had quit asking to be the aggressor. It was getting easier for Blair to accept Jim that way, and to enjoy it, so he saw little point in torturing his lover with an act that made him uncomfortable. 

Now, it seemed, the big man was purring and moaning and making no move to reverse their foreplay to put himself in the dominant role. He was relaxed and aroused all at the same time, and seemed perfectly content to let Blair take the lead. 

Convinced the left cheek had no virgin territory not marked by his mouth, Blair moved to its mate, tasting every inch with lips and tongue. 

Without warning, he parted the globes and aimed his tongue at the little pucker hidden there, sending a jolt of surprise and pleasure through his partner that translated into a loud, if not articulate, vocalization. 

Blair settled in and took his time, alternating dragging his tongue in long laps over Jim's center to darting in and out in little staccato thrusts. 

"Where'd you...learn...to do...that?" Jim gasped. 

"Always the detective," Blair chided, returning to use his tongue to begin a preliminary stretching of the tight ring of muscle that was always their worst enemy. 

"I want you in there, baby. Soon." 

"Me too, mine, me too," Blair sighed against Jim's lower back. Dropping a little kiss on Jim's tailbone, Blair reached under the pillow and snagged the lube. "Relax, lover. We've got all night," Blair whispered in Jim's ear before returning to his place between the strong legs spread open on the bed. 

"Speak for yourself," Jim ground out, thrusting against the mattress. 

"Just relax, take it easy, lover." Blair coated his finger with the gel and carefully inserted just the tip, starting a deliberately slow process of preparing his partner. He let his free hand caress the smooth spine lovingly. Jim seemed to be relaxing and opening for him much more easily and quickly than ever before. Blair smiled lovingly as he finally eased a third finger very gently past the barrier long minutes later. //Guess I found the secret weapon,// he thought. His tongue had not only driven Jim wild with desire, but it had worked some miracle that made him want a more significant penetration. 

"Sandburg, I'm dying here...come on, baby, do it now!" 

"Hang on, lover. I'm on my way." Blair slowly withdrew his fingers, spread a liberal amount of the lubricant on his own straining arousal, and lined it up with Jim's center. "Lift up a little, so I can slide a couple pillows under you, okay, love?" Blair moved quickly to get the soft support under Jim as he raised himself up. "Slow and easy, just relax. I love you, mine," Blair murmured as he slipped the head past the initial resistance, which submitted to his gentle pressure almost willingly. 

Blair gripped the sheet on either side of Jim with white-knuckled fists. He would not thrust hard into Jim under any circumstances, but he thought the pressure of that tight passage on his throbbing member was going to kill him if he couldn't be sheathed soon. //So die, then, Sandburg, because you're not hurting him for anything,// his inner voice responded. 

"Relax, mine, it's coming--" 

"So's Christmas..." Jim ground out. "Come on, man, do it!" Blair was startled by the command, and his overloaded body couldn't say no to it any longer. He slid into Jim in one smooth thrust, still careful to keep it slow and steady, not fast and sharp. There was a grunt from below him, which he wasn't sure should be classified as relief or discomfort. 

"How are you, lover?" Blair gasped. //I'm going to die right here on your back, so answer me soon...// 

"Move, baby, give it to me!" Jim thrust his buttocks back against Blair, momentarily shocking him, but overloading his system at the same time with the electric jolt of movement. 

Blair slowly pulled back and then slid back to the hilt again. At Jim's pleasured moans and answering undulation, he repeated the motion over and over again, letting Jim meet each one of his thrusts in a sort of dance that still allowed the larger man some control over what was happening to his body. 

"Oh, God...Blair...baby...oh, man!" That was Jim's last articulate sentence before he simply gave in to joining Blair's little symphony of moans and grunts. Jim let out a wail of Blair's name, and as he came, the spasms of his body drove Blair over the edge. Screaming Jim's name louder than Jim could remember hearing it before, Blair filled his lover with his seed, then collapsed, shuddering, on Jim's sweat-sheened back. 

"I love you, mine," Blair finally whispered against Jim's back, then kissed the soft skin under his lips. 

"Love you too, sweetheart. Stay where you are a minute, huh?" Jim whispered, finally understanding why Blair had been so reluctant to let him go the last time. This was the first time Jim could honestly say to himself that he had thoroughly enjoyed their union when he was on the receiving side. It was a stirring moment, and one he wanted to draw out as long as possible. 

"It'll be easier in a minute or so anyway," Blair responded softly, stroking Jim's shoulder with a gentle hand. "God, I love you so much." 

"That was amazing," Jim sighed contentedly. 

"Best ever, lover." Blair slowly began easing out of Jim, and then slid off the larger man's back so he could turn on his side. The pillows that had been under him were cast aside, and Blair gathered him close so Jim's head rested on his shoulder, in a reversal of their usual positions. Content with that arrangement, Jim relaxed in the embrace and let Blair stroke and cuddle and fuss over him the way he usually did over Blair after they made love. 

"Are you okay, mine?" Blair asked softly, stroking Jim's hair lightly. 

"Better than okay," he sighed in response. "It was perfect." 

"Did I hurt you?" 

"Nope," Jim said through a smile, closing his eyes and feeling himself drifting peacefully toward sleep. Blair's heart was thudding its usual lullaby, and Jim was nearly a goner when Blair spoke the final time. 

"Tonight was magical, man. Pure magic." 

* * *

"What do you think we were doing wrong?" Blair asked as he spread what he considered too much cream cheese on a bagel and passed it to Jim. The other man eyed it with great desire and then took a large bite out of it. Blair had escaped to the kitchen to get food, and now they were eating a midnight snack in bed with the light of a small candle and the late autumn moon. Having pulled on their robes and climbed back into bed, snuggling together comfortably under the heavy quilt, bagels and cream cheese were being consumed greedily. 

"You mean before? Because we did _nothing_ wrong tonight." Jim took another bite of his bagel. 

"I think we were planning it too hard. You know, 'It's Friday night, so that means we do it all the way'. I think we were too regimented, and it built up our expectations too much." 

"And the anxiety level. I mean," Jim attempted through a prodigious mouthful, "if you're approaching it with the attitude that you _have_ to do it at a certain time, you get all tensed up. At least I did," he commented candidly. Blair nodded in agreement. 

"Yeah, it was kind of like, 'Oh, Friday night, brace yourself'." Blair chuckled a little. "And then we had our unwritten scorecard about whose turn it was to do what. Can we toss that concept? I don't have any hang-ups about which one of us topped last. I don't care, as long as we're making love together and enjoying ourselves. I felt like tonight was the first time you really _wanted_ me to top. Not because it was my turn or you thought you should let me--because you wanted me to." 

"I guess it was. Maybe that's why I enjoyed myself. I was in the mood for it." 

"I don't want you to ever do anything just because it's my turn. Well, letting me pick which movie we watch when it's my turn is still nice, but I mean with sex." 

"Damn. Almost saw myself escaping that foreign film series at the U." 

"You're going to like those movies. Especially the original French movie version of 'Somersby'--'The Return of Martin Guerre'. The French original is way better than the Hollywood version." 

"It is, huh?" Jim had abandoned the bagel and taken a more active interest in Blair's earlobe. 

"Jim! Like I don't feed you enough. Here." He handed Jim another prepared piece of bagel. 

"I thought you liked me nibbling your ear." 

"My ear, my rear, whatever. Just not while I'm eating." 

"Time to refill the tank, huh?" 

"Yeah. Man, I think I used up about three times' worth on that one." 

"About the foreign movies--I was only kidding, baby. I want to see every last one with you. I love you." 

"I love you too. That's why we'll see half the series--every other week. The in between weeks, we'll go see something current--deal?" 

"Deal." Jim smiled and pulled Blair into his arms, letting the food fall where it would. 

"Jim, you're dropping food, man." 

"So we'll get roaches. I just want to hold you and I'm sick of sharing you with a bag of bagels." 

"That guy who came after me in the garage tonight...who was he?" 

"Ed Miller--he and Patterson saw us kissing, remember?" 

"Oh. I didn't remember him when I saw him tonight. Man, he's gonna kill me next time he sees me." 

"You took care of yourself just fine tonight, sweetheart. He probably won't mess with you again." 

"No, he'll come back with a half dozen friends, probably." 

"We'll worry about him later. Got a surprise for you. Ryf's uncle called. He said your car'd be done by Saturday." 

"What?!" Blair shot up into a sitting position. 

"He said he'd have it as good as new by Saturday," Jim repeated, grinning as he thought about the subterfuge that had brought it about. The gouges had been too deep, so Jim had asked Ryf's uncle if he could come up with scrap parts and essentially rebuild the body with a replacement hood, trunk, and doors. The man had scoured the state, and come up with the parts. Jim had already paid him for the work. 

"I don't believe it. I thought it was toast, man." 

"Miracles happen, I guess." Jim kissed Blair's forehead and snaked his hand inside the other man's robe, finding his lax but quickly responsive penis. 

"Jim, what're you...ooohhh, whatever it is? Keep doin' it," Blair groaned, arching into the stimulation. 

Six a.m. was very unwelcome when it arrived. 

* * *

Blair spent most of the morning grading the last of his mid-term exams. There were a few snow flurries wafting in the air outside, and more than once, his mind wandered back to the previous night. Being inside Jim had been a phenomenal experience. The first time Blair had really enjoyed it thoroughly as well. Knowing Jim was enduring it or was in pain or at best discomfort, had kept Blair from really loving it either. Last night was pure magic... 

"Sandburg." A male voice from his open door caught his attention. He started a little and turned away from the window. Dr. Tillman was approaching his desk. 

"Dr. Tillman," Blair acknowledged coolly but politely. 

"May I sit down?" he asked, indicating the only clear chair near the desk. 

"Of course." Blair turned sideways in his own chair to face the man. 

"I received a telephone call from Dean Ryman this morning. It seems that Nicole Pierce has recanted her charges against you." 

"That's wonderful--but why?" Blair played his part to the end, not letting on that he knew anything about the plot the Dean had been working on in his behalf. He was, however, overjoyed that it worked. There were no guarantees when it all started that it would. 

"It seems that Ms. Pierce was acting on behalf of a friend, who encouraged her to make the charges." 

"Why?" 

"Her friend's father is a detective in the same department as your...friend, Ellison. Apparently, it was a more covert form of harassment. His daughter made arrangements with Nicole to make the false claim. Ms. Pierce said that Ms. Patterson--the young lady whose father was behind this--said her father was hopeful that you would leave town if there was a sufficient scandal." 

"What made Nicole admit she was lying, I wonder?" 

"Dean Ryman asked her to come in and explain the situation again. Apparently something about the girl's story didn't ring true to Charlotte, and she wanted to take another look at it." Tillman shifted nervously in his chair. "Obviously, there won't be a need for a hearing tomorrow." 

"That's great news," Blair responded, genuinely relieved. He couldn't wait to call Jim. 

"I'm afraid I owe you an apology. I was very ready to believe that young lady's charges." 

"There wasn't much way to disprove what she was saying," Blair conceded. 

"Thank you for being so gracious about it." Dr. Tillman stood up and moved toward the door. 

"Dr. Tillman?" 

"Yes?" The older man paused at the door and turned back to look at Blair. 

"I hope that someday you'll be able to be more comfortable about my lifestyle. I really do respect you and your work, and this...tension between us isn't pleasant." 

"Don't push it, Sandburg. Rome wasn't built in a day." There was a little trace of humor in the man's voice as he turned and retreated from the office. 

Blair just grinned and picked up the phone to call Jim. 

* * *

Jim stifled a yawn as he started out down the road. He had been putting off this ride out to see Henry, one of his best snitches. The old man had a veritable wealth of information if you had a morning to kill sorting out the tips from the slew of trivia and stories about the Korean War he saw fit to share at the same time. 

Henry ran a seedy bar in the toughest business district in Cascade, and more often than not, he had either seen or heard of a certain perp Jim was looking for. At the very least, he usually had some good street gossip to pass along to the detective. 

Seeing enough of the crime and danger while he ran his business, Henry had retreated to a two acre plot of land well outside the city limits, putting a nice little mobile home in the middle of it all. He didn't open the bar until five, so once he was up and around by about ten in the morning, the day was his. One of his favorite ways to spend it was sharing war stories with a captive audience. Jim realized he was one of the most captive, since he usually wanted something from the old man. 

Settling in for the long ride, Jim flipped on the radio. He had the advantage of being able to listen to music and still hear if he was being called on the police radio. Blair had decided one day that Jim should be capable of doing both, so thanks to his persistent little guide/lover/best friend/other half, he could do just that. 

The first song that reached his ears was a soft, sultry love song. Jim smiled a little as he thought about the night before, incredulous that he had not only enjoyed himself so much but that he could seriously admit that he wanted to do it again. Maybe not right away, but soon. 

//Can't show up at Henry's with a king-sized stiffy stuck out the front,// Jim concluded, chuckling. He changed the station, hoping for something less likely to remind him of Blair. 

"Oh that's a big help," he said back to the radio, laughing. Bad Company's "Feel Like Makin' Love" wasn't going to help matters much. He punched another preset button. //A bouncy dance tune. Not what I'd pick out, but safe territory,// he concluded. When the refrain kicked in and the singer declared, "...you and me, we should be dancing in the sheets", Jim laughed out loud. Another button was hit. An All-4-One song was playing. That reminded him of Blair too, since they had slow danced to more than one of the band's songs. It reminded him of all the warm, wonderful, mushy feelings that were ends in themselves with or without sex. That was more than acceptable. Now if he could just ignore those damn female pronouns... //One way to solve that, Ellison. Out-sing 'em.// 

By the time Jim pulled up at the last busy intersection of town, he was singing full tilt. 

"I can love you like that, I can make you my world, move heaven and earth, if you were my _love_ , I can give you my heart, be all that you need, show you you're everything that's precious to me, if you give me a chance, I can love you like that," Jim concluded with the singer, tapping a couple punctuating drumbeats on the steering wheel. He noted that the woman next to him at the stop light was eyeing him as if he were insane. And he didn't care. //God, Ellison, you're a sap when you're in love,// he berated himself with a smile as he geared up to take on Stevie Wonder when the first notes of "I Just Called to Say I Love You" started playing. As if on cue, the cell phone rang. Jim smiled a little as he turned down the radio and answered his ringing phone, as the signs of civilization were becoming more and more sparse. 

"Ellison." 

"I want to dribble chocolate sauce all over you and spend all night licking you clean," a hushed voice breathed into the phone. 

"I'll bring the whipped cream if you bring the nuts," Jim responded, and unable to keep up the charade, Blair laughed out loud on the other end of the phone. 

"I've got good news, lover. Tillman just stopped by. Whatever Charlotte did to Nicole must have worked, because she admitted she lied about everything. I'm off the hook, man. No hearing!" 

"Oh, sweetheart, that's great! What happened?" 

"I guess she called Nicole in and put some pressure on her and she folded. I still have to call Charlotte and find out--" 

"Oh, shit," Jim muttered, pressing down on the brake pedal with no results. He was on a curve, the truck was gaining speed, and the damn brakes weren't catching. 

"Jim? What's wrong?" Blair's frantic voice came over the phone as Jim worked at pumping the brake, flattening it to the floor, slamming on it--nothing worked. "Jim!" 

"I've got trouble here. No brakes. I'm on Bell Road. Better send an ambulance in case. Love you." And with that, he broke the connection and threw the phone aside, concentrating on trying to bring the truck under control. 

* * *

Blair stared at the telephone in his hand, stunned momentarily. He lost very little time calling for help, sending a back up unit and ambulance in Jim's direction. Then he raced out of his office, down the stairs and out to the parking lot for his car. Maybe if the lights cooperated, he could get there at the same time the cops did. 

"Jim, please be okay. Oh God, I didn't have time to say it again. Jim, you gotta know I love you so much," Blair kept chanting to himself as he sped through town, running two red lights and sliding through a stop street with only marginal caution. How he hadn't been spotted or pulled over, he didn't know, but he just prayed his luck held. "Please, God, I'll do anything...just let him be okay..." 

Blair could hear sirens behind him, but they weren't pursuing him. Ironically, he had to pull over to let the ambulance and two police cars whiz by. He rejoined the parade down the long country road until he saw them slow down and stop, one by one. As Blair approached the scene, he felt all the strength going out of his limbs. He could barely think to stop his own car. Down on the side of the hill was a flaming wreck. The moment Blair stepped out of his car, the burning vehicle exploded, the vibration throwing him to the ground. 

"Jim!!!" Blair scrambled to his feet and raced down the hillside, eluding the emergency personnel momentarily because they hadn't even seen him pull up to the scene. It was Ryf who caught him around the waist, quickly reinforced by Brown who caught up to them on the grassy slope. It was obvious it was going to take at least two of them to contain the kicking, screaming, struggling man who was intent on reaching the flaming remains of Jim's truck. 

"Blair! Come on, settle down! You can't help Jim." 

"Let go of me! I have to get him out of there!! Oh God, somebody do something!!!" Blair screamed, fighting diligently against the two men who were not only holding him, but trying to drag him back from the wreck that had the potential to yield another explosion. 

"Blair!" Ryf maneuvered him around with Brown's help and slapped his face once, hard. "Dammit, Blair, it's over. Nobody can go near that wreck." 

"But Jim...he's in there..." The slap seemed to have calmed the hysterics, but there was still a weak struggle to move toward the flaming carcass of the truck. "Please let me go... I want to be with him," Blair pleaded, the last word breaking pitifully. 

"Jim wouldn't want you to get hurt going near the fire, you know that, man," Brown spoke up. "Come on, come back to the car with us. We'll give you a ride back--" 

"No." Blair wrested his arms out of their grip, though now he was standing still, and sounding very calm. "I'm going to wait here." And with that, he seated himself on the grass and refused to move. 

"Blair, no one could survive a crash like that. When the smoke clears...Jim wouldn't want you to remember him that way." 

"I'm not leaving here until Jim does," Blair replied, not sparing the men a look. His body was shaking from the shock, and his soul had been ripped out by its roots. He had nothing left for anyone. Nothing left but to wait until they recovered what was left of his life from that burning wreck. 

"Then we can take off now, sweetheart," a voice came from behind him. Blair stood up and spun around, and would have fallen if not for the strong hands of his lover catching his shoulders. Ryf and Brown were standing a few feet away in mute shock, having wandered away from Blair after his refusal to move from the ground where he sat. 

"Jim? I thought...the truck...?" 

"When it went off the road I jumped. Guess that was a good call." He winced a little as he looked over at the inferno that was his third vehicle in so many years. 

"I thought...Oh, God, Jim, I love you so much and I didn't get time to say it and then I thought you were dead and I'd never get the chance but I do, I love you don't ever die on me I can't stand it!" Blair blurted out through tears as he wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and held on. He felt Jim's arms go around him and pull him in tightly enough to lift his feet off the ground and hold him up a bit. It was just as well. His legs were giving out anyway. 

"Shhh. I'm right here, baby. I'm right here. We don't need words, sweetheart. I know how you feel. It's okay." 

"Jim!" Simon had pulled up on the scene, and while the others had held back to let Jim have his moment with the frantic man who'd been ready to merge with the flames moments earlier, the captain was intent on getting the story right then and there. 

"The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Jim quipped, still holding Blair, who didn't seem to care if the president was there to talk to Jim. He wasn't letting go. "Is he hurt?" Simon asked, wondering if Blair had been in the truck with Jim. 

"No, just scared shitless, I think." Jim took a moment to give Blair a little squeeze. "I need my neck back, Chief," he said softly into the nearest ear. Blair was still crying and refused to loosen his grip. 

"He thought you were in the truck?" Simon asked finally. 

"I guess everyone at this end of the line did. I bailed when I lost control of it, and it crashed and exploded. The ambulance guys spotted me right away, but it took everyone else a little time to find me because I was sitting in the back of the ambulance getting checked out." Jim inclined his head toward Blair. "Give us a minute?" 

"Yeah, I'll go have a look at the skid marks." Simon moved away from them and Jim turned his attentions back to Blair, who was quieting considerably but not letting go. 

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere. I'm alive and I'm fine." Blair reluctantly freed Jim's neck and stepped back a little, still hiccuping. The tears were still coming, and he seemed unable to stop them. "Oh, baby, come on, look at me. I'm just fine. Just a scratch or two," Jim consoled gently, taking Blair's face in his hands. 

"I wanted to...go with you," Blair managed. 

"Blair, look at me," Jim said firmly. "I'm alive. I'm fine. I wasn't in the truck. Now get a grip." He grasped Blair's shoulders and shook him once, gently. "What happened to your face, sweetheart?" Jim leaned over and kissed the red patch on Blair's cheek. 

"I guess I got a little hysterical. I think Ryf let me have it," he responded, trying a little smile. "I'm sorry I freaked out, but I thought...God, Jim, I was so damn _scared_." 

"I know. Feeling a little steadier now?" 

"Yeah. I feel like an idiot, actually." 

"Don't. It's kind of nice to know how much you're loved. I'm not objecting." Jim slid arm around Blair's shoulders and led him toward where Simon was looking at the skid marks. 

"Can I hang out with you today? I don't want to be apart right now." Blair looked up at him hopefully, and Jim melted like he always did at that pleading little look. 

"Won't let you out of my sight." He squeezed Blair's shoulders as they made their way over to join Simon. 

"Brakes went out totally, huh?" Simon asked as Jim and Blair joined him, Ryf and Brown at the spot where the truck left the road. 

"I started gaining speed on the first curve back there, and when I took my foot off the gas and hit the brake, nothing happened." Jim looked over at the smouldering remains of the truck. "The brakes were fine this morning on the way in, and they were working when I ran over to the courthouse earlier. I suppose they could have been gradually letting go, but I would be more inclined to think something happened to them while I was at headquarters, because they didn't seem overly responsive on the way out of town, but they were working." 

"You've had the truck in recently for maintenance?" Simon asked. 

"Just a week ago. Everything checked out fine." 

"So it happened at the station?" Blair finally spoke up. 

"Almost looks that way," Jim replied, relieved to hear Blair sounding like his old self again. "Of course, if someone were going to target me, that's certainly one place they could be sure of seeing my truck." 

"Or they could blend with the atmosphere sabotaging it there if they already parked nearby themselves." 

"Sandburg, you aren't seriously suggesting another cop did this?" 

"Simon, last week I wouldn't have seriously suggested that three Vice cops would shove my head in a toilet for kicks, but it happened. I don't have a lot of naive trust left anymore." 

"Plus we have evidence now that Patterson was behind the sexual harassment charges made against Blair. His daughter is friends with Nicole Pierce, the girl who made the accusation." 

"Can you put that evidence together for the DA?" 

"I have to talk to Dean Ryman again and get the exact story, but I don't think it'll be a problem," Blair replied. 

"Good. I want a report on my desk by the end of the day. Have him sign it." He pointed at Jim as he moved away to talk to the men preparing to approach and inspect the smoking wreckage. Simon had apparently accepted that on more than one occasion, Blair took Jim's notes and wrote the reports while the detective engaged in more official activities with which Blair couldn't help. 

"Well, if you're going to hang out with me, Chief, I need a lift out to Henry's place." 

"Just like that? You almost _died_ , man. Aren't you a little freaked out by that?" Blair asked, all expressions and gestures. Jim just chuckled. 

"No, sweetheart. _You're_ freaked out by it. And it wasn't even close. All I got were a couple bruises from jumping out of the truck." Jim sighed at Blair's still troubled expression. "I'm fine, baby. I'm this far out in the sticks, and it'll be a while before that thing cools down enough for them to analyze anything, so I might as well finish what I started. Henry'll like you anyway. Probably give me what I need free." 

"Great. What is Henry? Some kind of sex pervert?" 

"Yeah. I bring him sexy young men for his sick pleasures in return for information. You don't mind putting out so I can get a few leads on the Carpenter case, do you?" Jim asked innocently. 

"Asshole," Blair shot back, laughing. 

"Coming from you, that could be a love name." Jim stole a quick kiss and then jogged around to the passenger side of Blair's car. 

* * *

After visiting Henry, the two men returned to headquarters where Jim typed up a perfunctory report of the failing brakes incident, and was informed that the preliminary word was that the brake fluid had been drained out of the lines. The next stop on their itinerary was the loft, where Jim changed into some clean clothes (with the marginal distraction of Blair hovering over him and making more of a fuss over his bruises than the ambulance attendants had). Refreshed and tidied up, they made their way to Dean Ryman's office. 

* * *

Charlotte Ryman was discussing something with her secretary, standing in her outer office, when Blair and Jim arrived. She brightened immediately and finished her discussion with the other woman. 

"Blair, I was just about to call you." 

"Charlotte Ryman, Jim Ellison," Blair introduced. He smiled a bit smugly at the approving once-over Charlotte was giving his lover. It was a common reaction from most women when they met Jim, and it never ceased to give Blair a little tingle that this gorgeous specimen was all his. 

"Blair's had a lot of good things to say about you," Jim spoke up, accepting her offered handshake. 

"I could say the same. Why don't you two step into my office?" 

"We need to find out the details about Nicole and Pamela," Blair explained, as soon as all of them were seated. 

"Well, Nicole was fairly weak as far as her resolve to stick to her story. I simply had a little talk with her, asked her if she fully understood the gravity of the charges she was making, and also reminded her that if those charges were disproved and if it was later discovered that she had intentionally made a false claim, it would mean a dismissal from the university. She held out a moment or two, then broke down and told me that she was lying for a friend of hers." 

"Pamela?" Jim asked. 

"She said that Pamela asked her if she would help out with a plan, and explained that Blair was making things difficult for her father at work, and that he would like to see Blair move on from Cascade. Nicole refused at first, but apparently Pamela had enough evidence of Nicole's marijuana habit to coerce her into doing it to avoid being arrested." 

"And she just told you all this?" Jim asked, incredulous. 

"It's amazing what a stressed out girl who's only 18 years old and is away from home for the first time--and is in significant trouble--will say when she finally sees some help in sight. My goal for Nicole was to get her into a drug rehabilitation program, which she has signed up for this morning. If charges are pressed against her, I would assume that would help her case." 

"Definitely. It shows her intention to discontinue the habit." Jim smiled. "You ever consider a job in law enforcement? I could use you at my next interrogation." 

"This is as close to being a cop as I can handle, thank you," she responded, chuckling a little. 

"What's going to happen to Pamela?" Blair asked. 

"Well, at this point, I think we'll take our cue from the police. Nicole agreed to cooperate with the authorities in any way on this matter, and I certainly am willing to testify or make any statements necessary." 

"The next thing we have to do is present this information to the DA, who will determine what, if any, charges will be brought against Nicole or Pamela. My guess would be that since Nicole is cooperating, she'll probably get off the hook with a slap on the wrist and a requirement of drug rehab, which she's already agreed to do on her own. Pamela is another story. I don't know how that'll play out yet." 

"Before you do anything, let me talk to Pamela. If this becomes a law enforcement issue, I doubt you'll have her cooperation." 

"You're probably right about that. Her father's attorney will be advising her if we handle it, and she'll probably keep quiet," Jim rubbed a hand over his chin. "I know you and Blair tossed around the idea of appealing to her father to confess and save her neck, but I wouldn't count on that being a viable option." 

"If Pamela were to cooperate, what would happen to her from a legal standpoint?" Charlotte asked. 

"I'm not the DA, and that's his call, not mine. My guess? If she cooperates, she'll probably get something very mild--probation, most likely. What we're actually talking about here is two-way blackmail. Her father didn't want money from Blair, but he did what he did in order to force Blair to behave in a certain manner--thus, to achieve a 'pay off' of some sort. In turn, she coerced Nicole into lying by using the drug threat against her. Given that she was acting on behalf of her father, she's very young, has no prior record...she'll probably come out of it just fine--better, actually, without her father's lawyer putting a gag on her." 

"I'll get Pamela in here for an appointment. Better yet, I'll try to catch her by surprise." 

"Good idea. If she has time to sound the alarm to her father, we're probably finished," Blair added. 

"I'll need Nicole's address and phone number," Jim spoke up. The Dean opened a file folder she had handy on her coffee table and dictated the address as Blair wrote it down. 

* * *

"I hope Simon's not going to give you the run around about helping you out with the cost on this truck," Blair said as he walked the rest of the way up the stairs to the bedroom. Jim was already in bed, waiting for his partner. He smiled as he watched Blair approach the bed and climb in, dressed for the cold night in his sweatpants, socks and t-shirt. Jim figured most of the garments would end up on the floor in the next ten minutes, but Blair looked impossibly cute dressed that way, so it was worth the effort. He laughed when Blair wriggled around to shed the t-shirt and sweats and tossed them on the floor, leaving only his socks and boxers. 

"You know me too well, Chief." Jim doused the light and pulled Blair close to him, enjoying the warmth that emanated from him. 

"I figured they were history anyway," Blair said, grinning against Jim's chest. "Besides, body heat's more effective skin to skin. Purely from a scientific standpoint." 

"Of course." Jim smiled and slipped his hand into Blair's hair. "Simon said the department would cover this one. It isn't nearly as much as the others were, and this way I don't have to make a claim on my insurance." 

"Do you think it's somebody at the PD?" 

"God, I don't want to think that." Jim exhaled loudly. "I mean, I can see those guys harassing us, and I'm not even real surprised about what happened with Walker and his stooges. But attempted murder... I really hope it isn't another cop." 

"I'm sorry this screwed everything up so bad for you, man. I never wanted to mess up your job." 

"You didn't, sweetheart. Don't apologize." 

"Today, when I thought... I love you, Jim. I don't say it enough. I just kept thinking that I hadn't said it to you--" 

"Blair, baby, you've told me you loved me about a dozen times a day since we got together. And before that you told me in all the zillion little things you did for me all the time. I'm real clear on that point." 

"I was so scared." Blair cuddled closer against Jim. "The worst thing had already happened, so it wasn't like there was anything else I could be scared of. But I was afraid of living without you. I knew I couldn't. I can't, Jim." 

"You don't have to. I'm not going anywhere. But you could do it." Jim held Blair tightly against him and kissed his forehead. 

"I'm sorry," Blair managed as he started to cry softly against Jim's shoulder. 

"Shhh. It's okay, baby. I'm right here. Don't cry, love. I'm fine." Jim shifted onto his side so he could wrap Blair completely in his arms and legs. Blair's arms were like steel bands around his waist. The tears were coming out in wracking sobs now. It was on the tip of Jim's tongue to comfort Blair by stating the obvious again, but he refrained. He tried to put himself in the position of thinking Blair was dead, of feeling all the pain and horror and the heartbreak, if only for a few minutes. 

"I'm glad you're okay," Blair choked out, squeezing Jim more tightly in his arms. 

"But for that few minutes, you went through all the same things you would have if I'd really died in that damn truck. I'm sorry you had to go through that. I never expected you to get there that fast, so I didn't think to get out of the ambulance. Those guys spotted me coming up the hill and had me get in the back and sit on the gurney so they could check a few things out and clean up a couple scratches. The truck had just started to show signs of catching fire, so I didn't even think about what it might look like." 

"None of it would matter without you. I realized all of a sudden that I didn't want the Ph.D. or my other friends or...or anything. None of it meant anything." 

"You're my heart and soul, sweetheart. You know that. I feel the same way." 

"I love you, mine." Blair had calmed to an occasional sniffle. 

"I love you too, Chief. Try to relax and close your eyes. Come on." Jim shifted again so he was on his back with Blair snuggled comfortably against his side, head on his shoulder. "Get some sleep, baby." 

"Maybe tomorrow'll be better," Blair mumbled as he dozed. 

"Maybe," Jim replied softly with a little grin, dropping a kiss on the top of Blair's head. 

//What an amazing blessing to be loved this much,// Jim thought, smiling to himself as he settled in to sleep. 

* * *

Pamela Patterson did not go down as easily as Nicole Pierce. Loyal to her father and more than aware of her tenuous legal position, she denied any knowledge of such a plot and feigned indignation that her unsavory roommate would use her to wriggle out of a tight situation. She further blasted Nicole both barrels, giving dates and times of dorm parties where Nicole had furnished the pot, among other substances. She strode out of the Dean's office, head held high, having avoided incriminating herself in any way. She had obviously inherited her father's cold, unemotional demeanor. 

Both Jim and Blair were disappointed in that outcome, but not terribly surprised. Nicole had been a pawn in the plan, a definite textbook "weak link". It was in Nicole's best interest to cooperate, but in Pamela's case, it would have meant betraying her father if she had admitted to the plot. Both tried to focus on the fact that the important thing was foiling the plot and clearing Blair of any charges, and nailing Patterson for being behind it would have just been a nice bonus. 

Blair tried to ignore his nagging unease about moving around headquarters alone. So far, he'd been dunked in the toilet and harassed in the garage. When he saw two detectives from Narcotics headed his way from the other end of the hall, he schooled his features calm, though his heart was thudding up in his ears. Both men knew him, both normally spoke pleasantly to him (before the revelation about his relationship to Jim), and both had good reputations on the force. He still didn't hold out much hope of not getting a sour remark or at the least, a dark glare. 

"Hey, Sandburg, I hear you kicked Miller's ass in the garage the other night," Mark Kendall said through a snicker. His partner, Steve Curtis, slowed down as he did to talk to Blair. 

"He was getting in my face. He wasn't leaving me a lot of options." 

"Miller's an arrogant asshole. God, it was funny watching him come back in and stagger into the john," Steve added. "You shoulda heard him trying to come up with a good reason why a police observer a head shorter than he is took him out with a couple well-placed moves," he concluded, laughing. "So, Sandburg, you gonna start teaching self defense around here?" 

"More like asshole control," Mark interjected, sending all three men into laughter. 

"I minored in psych and asshole control, actually," Blair quipped. "So, everybody's not pissed about me about Miller?" 

"Pissed? They'll probably give you a medal," Steve started moving away, and Mark followed suit. "Not all of us are living in the Stone Age, man. People have a right to do what they want with whoever they wanna do it. As long as we don't have to bust 'em for it, we really don't give a shit." 

"That's really good to hear coming from somebody here." Blair smiled a little. "The last time I ran into more than one cop in the hall, I ended up with my head in the toilet." 

"Some of the guys in Vice have real attitude problems. I'm not saying all of them, but I think they start getting confused that you don't push people around like the scum you raid in the porn joints. Anyhow, nice move with Miller," Mark concluded, following his partner down the hall. 

"Yeah. See you guys later," Blair responded, smiling but still reeling from the shock of receiving a few words of support. He had a definite spring in his step when he returned to Jim's desk. 

"You look happy. Better not be Diane in Traffic again." 

"That was, like, _forever_ ago, man. She doesn't even work down there anymore." 

"Then Linda the bagel girl." Jim was smirking a little. 

"Actually, it's this cop in Major Crimes with the big, throbbing rod of manhood," Blair whispered as he reached past Jim to grab a paper clip. The other man stifled a chortle and went back to trying to concentrate on his computer screen. 

"So what is it?" 

"What?" 

"You've looked like someone just shot your puppy all day around here and all of a sudden you look...normal," Jim finally concluded, unable to find just the right words. 

"I ran into a couple guys from Narcotics who congratulated me on kicking Miller's ass. It was kind of nice to get a little support." 

"That's great, Chief." 

"I really think you should reconsider the whole resignation thing." 

"You do, huh?" Jim was pecking away at the keyboard, grimacing at what he saw in front of him. 

"What're you working on?" 

"Just some background stuff for the Burnette case. Trying to narrow the field a little. Right now I'm checking out parolees who went to prison for cutting up women." 

"And they got paroled?" 

"Most of them weren't homicide cases. The majority were aggravated assault, some rape charges, and the rest were domestic violence and spousal abuse." 

"Nasty case, man. Any chance they'll leave us out of it from here on?" Blair asked, surprising Jim a little. His partner normally liked to see things through to their conclusion, whether they were easy or not. Their partnership with Vice in trying to bust Julian Corman, the head of the biggest drug, prostitution and porno business in Cascade, had been an uneasy one from the start. Jim had a few good friends left in Vice, but he had also locked horns with several in the past--including men like Walker, Hooper and Patterson. Now, with three veteran Vice cops suspended without pay and pending trial on felony charges for assaulting Blair, there was little hope for the situation not to turn into a nightmare. 

Corman's girlfriend had turned up dead, cut up in a very creative manner. The homicide had drawn Major Crimes in on the act. While the crime boss, a man in his early forties with dark good looks and a commanding presence, had an airtight alibi for the night of the killing, the police felt confident he was behind it. Maria Burnette was leaking information to undercover cops. Her death would not only have to be swift, but gruesome, to make a point to any others in Corman's inner circle who entertained similar thoughts. 

"We're probably in it for the duration. Or I should say, I'm in it. I would just as soon see you stay out of it from here on in. We'll be dealing with a lot of guys who were tight with Walker and his cronies. I don't want you getting hurt." 

"I'm your partner, man. If you're in, I'm in." 

"I'm just saying that if you're in, you could be in danger. We both could be." 

"So you don't want me in on it, is that what you're saying?" There was a definite tone of anger and hurt in Blair's voice. 

"I'm saying that this case isn't about us proving some...social justice point. It's about nailing a murdering bastard who makes his money off other people's perversions." 

"Us sticking together as partners in this department is about more than a 'social justice point', Jim." Blair shook his head. "I can't believe we're having this conversation. You seriously want me out of your hair so you can work this case, don't you?" 

"That's an unfair crock of shit, Sandburg, and you know it. You saw Maria Burnette. Corman plays for keeps, and I can't be spending half my time defending your honor when I'm supposed to be working a case!" Jim wanted to retract the words as soon as they'd escaped. To say Blair looked stricken was an understatement. He slowly rose from the spot where he'd perched against Jim's desk. 

"In that case, you're on your own. Good luck with your case." Blair started for the door. 

"Blair, wait a minute. I didn't mean--" 

"Yes, Jim, you did. You never wanted to come out with me in the first place, and you're not happy to be out now," Blair responded, keeping his voice at a level low enough only Jim could hear it. Blair didn't see much point in handing Jim his freedom and at the same time, irreparably humiliating him in front of his co-workers. "And I'm not happy being stuffed back in the closet the first time a sticky situation comes up. As far as 'defending my honor', no one asked you to. I can take care of myself, which is precisely what I intend to start doing." 

With that, Blair turned on his heel and strode determinedly out of the bullpen, leaving Jim standing there with his mouth slightly agape. He considered running after Blair, but there wasn't much point. At least not until the younger man cooled off a little. Blair had the patience of a saint, but when you pushed the final one of his buttons, he was capable of real anger. A deeply wounded Blair could usually be sweet-talked and cuddled into forgiveness. A pissed-off Blair was better left alone until the wounded one surfaced. That usually took a day or two. This time, Jim figured he was in for a good week of sexual frustration and emotional turmoil. 

He tried to dismiss it at that, not acknowledging the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he would go home to an empty loft and a "Dear Jim" letter. 

* * *

Blair rode the tide of his anger as he stormed out to the police garage, thanking every deity in the universe that he'd driven his own car there that morning. He only taught one class in the late morning, so it was easier for them to drive in separately on Fridays so Blair could slip out to the campus and back without interrupting Jim for a ride. 

"Don't move," a voice came from behind Blair as he inserted his key into the car door lock. "Hands up on the car, now!" A breathy command that was barely above a whisper. It was Walker's voice. "Gimme the cuffs," he said to whomever was with him. 

"You're making a big mistake," Blair said as the cuffs were snapped into place, restraining his arms behind his back. "If you guys leave me alone right now, we can forget this ever happened." 

"You'd like that, tinkerbell. But that isn't the way this is going down. We're going to take you somewhere where they'll really appreciate your talents. Now move." Blair felt the gun against his back and found himself surrounded by just the three men he expected to see--Walker, Hooper, and Patterson. The parking garage was nearly deserted at this late hour. Most cops were either out on their beats, home with their families, or sitting hunched over their computers like Jim. //Jim...// 

"Get in!" Blair hesitated momentarily before stepping into the back of the dark blue van, but a knee in the rear from Walker encouraged him forward. He climbed in and Patterson got in behind him. The back doors closed and locked. 

"You shouldn't have messed with Pam, you perverted little son of a bitch," Patterson spat. 

"You shouldn't have put your daughter up to committing blackmail for you." Blair was silenced when he was backhanded sharply by the other man. 

"Hey--don't mess up his face." Walker was getting the driver's seat, Hooper climbing in the passenger seat. They were all dressed in dark clothes, Walker in his usual leather gear. Just like any other undercover night. 

"Good point. I could whip his ass, but we want that to look good too, where he's going," Patterson taunted, still pointing a gun directly at Blair. Making a break for it would be suicide, and Blair knew it. 

"Maybe Julian'll let you test drive him," Hooper quipped, laughing a little. 

//JULIAN??// Blair's mind screamed at him, as all the blood drained out of his face and he felt his extremities go cold. //Julian Corman with the cut up girlfriend...Julian Corman who had a vast network of prostitutes--female and male both...// Walker and his buddies had been part of the undercover operation to bust Corman. Blair had never actually met them prior to his encounter with them in the restroom that day, since they spent most of their time in the field, two planted as drug contacts for Corman, and Walker as a high-level pimp. //Poor Maria--she probably trusted one of these clowns, and that's why she's dead. They sifted her information, gave the brass little tidbits that wouldn't really nail Corman, and then turned Maria in to her merciless boyfriend.// Blair shivered. 

"I think he's cold, guys. You figure Julian'll have something for him to do to get him warmed up?" 

"Without a doubt," Walker retorted, calmly steering the van into the sparse late-night traffic. 

"This is kidnapping. If you get caught--" 

"Don't start advising us on the law, you smart-assed little faggot. If you keep your mouth shut, you just might make it to Corman's with all your teeth." Patterson leaned back against the wall of the van. "Before this is over, you and me are going to settle up for what you did to Pam." 

"I didn't do anything to Pam. Her only hope of not getting into this deeper and deeper and ending up in jail is if she cooperates now. You're the one who used your daughter to cover your ass." 

"Gag him," Hooper suggested helpfully, tossing an old rag of some sort at Patterson, who was due to lunge at Blair. "If you beat the shit out of him now, he isn't going to be any good for anything else." 

"What are you going to do wi--" Blair was cut off by the gag being shoved in his mouth and firmly tied at the back of his head. The van was moving fast now, and a jump would have been too dangerous. With bound hands, Blair didn't have the needed leverage to try anything. 

The rest of the ride was completed in a tense silence. Tense for Blair, anyway. The other three men were relaxed, smug even, at their plans for the evening. Their captive, rendered silent by the gag and motionless by the gun pointed at him, finally closed his eyes and started praying for the strength to endure whatever they had planned. He was sure of one thing: involving Julian Corman, it would not be pleasant. 

Concluded in part four.


	4. Chapter 4

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into four parts for easier loading.

## For Better or For Worse

by Candy Apple

Continued from part three.

* * *

For Better or For Worse - conclusion  
by Candy Apple

"Where's your other half?" Ryf asked as he passed Jim's desk. 

"Brown stick you with the paperwork again?" Jim responded, ignoring the question about Blair. 

"I could've sworn I passed Walker's van on the way in." 

"Sandburg left," Jim stated flatly, not looking up from his work. 

"His rental car's still in the garage," Ryf said, a definite note of concern in his voice. 

"Are you sure it was Walker's van?" Jim gave Ryf his full attention now. 

"Not positive, no. It was a dark blue panel job, no customizing. I don't see many of those around, and I know Walker used it for his undercover stuff--especially when he was playing pimp. Frankly, I think he used to sample the merchandise in the back of it." 

"Shit," Jim got up and rushed into Simon's office, startling the captain, who was just putting on his coat to leave for the night. "I need an APB on Walker's van. He's got Blair," Jim blurted. He didn't realize Ryf was right behind him. 

"I don't know that for sure, Captain," Ryf said to Simon's stunned expression. 

"Blair left quite a while ago, but his car's still in the garage, and Ryf just spotted Walker's van on his way in." 

"I _think_ it was Walker's van." 

"If he's got Blair, we don't have time to screw around. We need that APB now before they get where they're going!" 

"All right." Simon went to the phone and called in the APB on Walker's van, as well as a separate APB on Blair. "Meanwhile, I want you to get a group organized and search every inch of this building for Sandburg. He could have stopped off anywhere, and I want to cancel those bulletins before I look like an idiot in front of the Chief." 

"Right, sir," Jim responded, heading out the door with Ryf close behind him. 

"I'll get everybody mobilized to look for Blair if you want to hit the street," Ryf offered. Jim nodded gratefully, and snatching his coat off the hook, ran for the door. 

* * *

When the van finally came to a stop, Blair opened his eyes. 

"Whrrwe?" he fought to mumble over the gag. 

"You'll see." Patterson opened the back door as Walker and Hooper came around the van to meet them. 

They hustled their still-gagged hostage along with them, across well-worn cement to the back door of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse near the waterfront. They made their way across the large main floor of the building, to a locked steel door. Walker produced the key, dangling it with a glint in his eye toward Blair. Then, he unlocked the door and led the way downstairs. 

Blair could hear music and voices. It sounded like a sedate party was going on somewhere in the bowels of this giant barn of a building. 

"Julian!" Walker yelled, then waved at the tall, dark figure who met them in the concrete hallway. "Brought you a party favor." 

"You're the last person I expected to see," the dark-haired man commented. Dressed in black from head to toe, he conjured the mental image of a well-dressed, polished Satan. "And who have we here?" He reached toward Blair, who ducked as far back as he could to avoid the hand that traced his cheek lightly. 

"Friday nights are boys' nights, aren't they?" Walker chortled. "Figured your customers might appreciate this one. He's not exactly willing, but we know he's experienced." 

"I've seen you before," Julian addressed Blair directly, reaching over and yanking off the gag. Blair swallowed a time or two, and finally licked his lips to keep them from cracking. "Where do I know you from? And don't lie to me, because that will be a hell of a lot less pleasant than leveling with me." 

"I'm a police observer," Blair volunteered, recognizing that there was some truth in Corman's warning. 

"Ellison's whore is what he is," Hooper spoke up, swatting Blair on the rear end. "We thought you could use a nice little piece of ass like this tonight. Plus, you've gotta love the irony." 

"You brought me a cop's boyfriend? Are you fucking crazy?" Corman bellowed. 

"It's not like he'll be leaving to tell anyone," Walker added. 

"I think you're a little mixed up here, Walker," Corman jabbed a finger into the other man's chest. "You're not running this show. I don't kill people on _your_ say so." 

"Look, this little bastard is the reason we're all on suspension. If you don't think losing three Vice cops from the Cascade PD is bad for your business, you're sadly mistaken. They're getting closer to you everyday, man. And we're not there to run interference." 

"You know, it's a funny thing how I managed to run this operation all by myself all these years without your guidance," Julian retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Until I met up with the three of you, I didn't have corpses piling up around my ears. They're bad for business." 

"Maria was spilling major shit to the cops, Corman," Patterson spoke up. "If we hadn't been the ones she was spilling to, you'd be in lock-up as we speak." He grabbed a handful of Blair's hair and yanked his head back. "And as soon as you help us get rid of this little fucker, we'll be back in business." 

"So I'm supposed to take responsibility because you three can't keep your tempers under control? No. You made your own mess with him. He's _your_ problem." 

"You can make a body disappear when you don't want it traced, and you know it." Walked stood back smugly. 

"You know, I ought to kill all four of you. You three crazy assholes bring a cop's boyfriend into my private operation, spout off incriminating information in front of him--shit, you know damn well I can't let him out of here alive now." 

"Well, then killing him is in our common best interest. With him gone, there's not much chance we'll permanently lose our jobs. It's his testimony that's the problem. And, of course, we could use a little character defamation assistance." 

"Meaning what?" Corman pinned Walker with a suspicious glare. 

"Since we have to dispose of him, you might as well get the mileage off him. How much do you suppose your...more eccentric customers would pay for a stint with one they could have their way with--no holds barred on damaging the goods?" Walker lifted an eyebrow. "Here's the set up. We spotted Sandburg pleasuring a paying customer and when we confronted him in the john with that accusation, tempers flared. It isn't our fault if his last trick got a little too rough with him. You _do_ have a couple of customers who like it rough, don't you?" 

"More than a couple," Corman responded, mulling over Walker's idea, sweeping Blair up and down with his eyes. The younger man fought with all he had to maintain some degree of composure in his features. He wanted to scream and plead for his life, but he knew that was pointless. Dignity was the only thing he could still keep. 

"He'll fight, be a screamer--just what they want. Plus, you don't have to warn them about not damaging the merchandise. Think about the ticket you can charge for that privilege." 

"I have a couple of connoisseurs here tonight. Probably get $500 a piece for no-holds-barred." 

"He's pretty strong. He'll probably last through three, anyway," Hooper suggested, smiling at the horrified expression on Blair's face. The younger man had fallen silent, standing there in handcuffs, Patterson and Hooper keeping a firm hold on his arms. The atrocities they were suggesting were too horrendous for his mind to process. He just stood there and hoped he'd pass out before it got too extreme. 

"I don't exactly take snapshots of my customers for my memory book. How do you propose to get evidence of this second life?" 

"Get one of your other boys to do something with him we can photograph. After that, I don't care what the hell you do with him, as long as he disappears." Walker crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Corman's reaction. The other man looked back at Blair, and then nodded. 

"Take him in the other room. Make sure he can't get away. The last thing I need is to have one of my clients roughed up by one of my whores." Corman turned and walked briskly back toward the source of the music and voices, which was a considerable distance down the hall from where they stood. 

* * *

Jim had cruised every street surrounding the precinct, and now was moving outward in a ripple effect. Other units had been dispatched to the three men's homes, and none of the former Vice cops had been there. All of them were out, and Walker had left in his dark blue van, according to his live-in girlfriend. 

The radio crackled to life again, and Jim answered the call. 

"We've been through every inch of headquarters. No sign of Blair," Simon's voice came over the radio. "Jim, we found his car keys under his car. This isn't looking good." 

"No shit." Jim rolled his eyes at his own sharp retort. "Sorry, Simon. I just...is there any word from the APBs?" 

"Nothing yet. Where are you?" 

"I'm just headed out toward the waterfront area now. I've been all around the immediate area, so I'm going to start turning up rocks to see if I can find the bastards in their element." 

"Everyone's on it, Jim. All the units will be watching for Walker's van, or Sandburg. We'll find him." 

"I'm sure we will, eventually. I just want to do it before those assholes spend a lot of time with him." 

"Keep me posted." 

"Will do." Jim broke the connection. He had to ignore the ache in his heart at the last contact he'd had with Blair. This was like something out of a bad melodrama. Of all the times they parted with whispered "I love yous", or kisses, or caresses, this time, they parted in anger, with Blair feeling like he'd just been swept under the rug again. 

With a heavy heart and a feeling of despair at no sign of his missing partner, Jim headed for the waterfront district. 

* * *

Blair shivered as he lay on the bed, his wrists still cuffed, though this time, they'd been fastened around the rails of the brass headboard. His glasses were gone, his hair had been let loose, and every piece of clothing removed. 

He'd made their photo session as unpleasant as possible, realizing that if Corman was going to fetch a good price for him as some sadist's toy, he'd have to be in pristine, unmarred condition for the occasion. They'd finally settled for restraining him face down, with the other man on Blair's back, in a simulation of intercourse. He imagined that on film, it would be very realistic. In reality, the two men had spat out oaths at each other, and Corman's male prostitute was no more interested in being intimate with Blair than he was in being violated. 

Now all that was left to do was wait. The humiliation of being stripped and tossed around like a piece of meat and then photographed was bad enough. Throughout that, however, Blair's mind had been preoccupied with what would happen to him when the party really started in this garish, overly ornate room in the basement of an old warehouse. 

//Where do the perverts park their cars? Probably inside the warehouse somewhere. Could go up the freight elevator and all park upstairs...or all downstairs in the basement, for that matter...// Blair exhaled. Concentrating on the mundane was helping a little, but not much. He probably wouldn't have long to make his peace with the world. Once his ordeal started, he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts again until his death. 

Death. He thought about passing through to the other side, and that thought alone didn't scare him. He believed in the possibility of reincarnation, and fervently hoped he had generated enough good karma to at least have a decent time of it on the next round. Leaving Jim would probably be for the best. His life would go back to normal, eventually. He knew Jim loved him, but he really loved his job and the respect of his peers just a little bit more. Once he recovered from losing Blair, he would have all that again, and he'd be all right. 

Naomi. //Oh, Mom, I'm sorry. This is going to be hard as hell for you to hear about. For you to have to come here to bury me and find out that I spent my last moments in pain and violence. You'll blame Jim. I hope you don't. This really wasn't his fault. It just happened. It's hate and bigotry, greed, avarice, corruption... It started with homophobia, and ends with corrupt cops willing to kill to protect their territory and their lifestyles.// 

//And most of all, I just want someone to come find me and get me out of here. Who am I kidding? I don't want to die. Good God, not like this!! I don't want to be hurt and violated and tortured...// 

Blair realized that tears were trickling down his face now, and he had no way to dry them. The first customer who paid for his services would be treated to a real show, a dream come true for any sadist: a naked, bound, sobbing, terrified, pristine, unbruised victim. On that thought, the sobs only came louder and harder, and as he gave in to the terror and hopelessness of the situation, all he wanted to do was feel Jim's arms around him one last time... 

* * *

"I got the van," Jim called into the radio. "It's Walker's. Behind the old Pennington Furniture warehouse on Wharf Street." 

"Stay put. I'm sending back up units out now," Simon responded. 

"I can't stay put, Simon. Just get that back up here ASAP. I'm going in after Blair." Without waiting for Simon's response, he turned off the radio and after checking his weapon, abandoned the police sedan he'd borrowed and slithered stealthily up to the van in question. 

There were no heartbeats, no sounds of movement from within the vehicle. It was empty. Jim took a moment to calm himself, and take in his surroundings. From within the building somewhere, he could hear music, and voices. He made his way to the door, and was unsurprised to find it locked. He scanned the side of the building, opening up his vision to its fullest capacity. He detected a large hinged window which was not tightly closed, several yards down the building. 

Within moments he found himself inside the warehouse, having utilized the window. He followed the sounds to a steel door, which was locked. 

Hearing footsteps ascending from the level below, Jim ducked around the corner from the door and listened intently. Walker, Hooper and Patterson emerged, laughing and talking among themselves. There was no sign of Blair. 

"Freeze!" Jim darted out of the shadows and the startled men froze in their tracks. "Hands up where I can see 'em! Now!" He waited while they complied, his superior night vision enabling him to monitor their movements carefully. Of course, as Jim fully suspected he would, Walker went for his gun figuring the darkness was giving him enough cover to do so. 

Time moved in slow motion as Walker pulled the gun out of his belt and spun toward Jim, who fired as the other weapon was aimed at him. Walker crumpled to the ground, blood oozing from a hole in his chest, his gun clattering to the concrete. 

"Where's Sandburg?!" Jim demanded, pointing the weapon at the other two, who were obediently keeping their hands in the air. 

"Downstairs," Hooper blurted. Never one to be the hero, he wasn't about to argue with an armed, homicidal Ellison. Furthermore, Corman and all his troops were down there. Ellison would be roadkill before he ever got three steps down. He didn't know why Jim was grinning until the locked door to the warehouse burst open and police started pouring in. The back-up had arrived. 

There were bullhorn shouts warning the warehouse occupants that they were surrounded, and then the commotion of several struggles and arrests outside. Jim flagged two uniforms over to handcuff Hooper and Patterson and haul them off, while a third officer checked Walker's vitals. Jim already knew the man was dead. 

"Guess who just ran out the back door," Simon said, snickering as he joined Jim. "Corman, wearing nothing but a silk robe and a smile. Seems he's got a little pleasure palace in the basement." 

"Blair's down there." Jim turned on the steel door and fired into the wooden frame until the area around the lock was shattered. 

"We could have used this," Simon stated, holding up a key. 

Jim barely acknowledged him as he led Simon and several uniformed cops down the stairs. A few well-dressed "clients" of Corman's were already being rounded up and hauled down the concrete corridor to a second entrance that must have been used as the "escape hatch" when the shooting had occurred upstairs and the cops showed up to surround the place. 

"Blair! Sandburg!" Jim screamed at the top of his lungs. His hearing was on full alert, filtering out the sounds of the massive raid going on around him. He heard a soft, unmistakable sound that tore at his heart. Somewhere in that basement, Blair was crying. He obviously couldn't hear Jim calling to him. "This way!" Jim led Simon and two uniformed cops down to the large room where Julian had been holding his little "meet and greet" get together. It was sparsely decorated, but boasted that "warehouse chic" that was in at the moment. There was an elaborate stereo system, a bar, and a number of men and women who were being sorted out and questioned by the arriving police. 

Jim followed the soft little sounds no one else could have heard until he reached a door on the far side of the room. It was locked, and though he knew Simon probably had a key for that too, he didn't care. He kicked the door in and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw. 

Blair lay on the red velvet bedspread, naked and handcuffed to the headboard, but apparently unharmed. Jim yanked his coat off as he fled to his lover's side and covered him gently, leaning in to kiss his forehead before unlocking the cuffs with shaking hands. 

"Baby, I'm here, it's okay," Jim whispered as the newly freed arms locked tightly around his neck. "Are you hurt, sweetheart?" Jim finally breathed for the first time when he felt the head against his shoulder shake a negative reply. 

"They...left me here...so Corman...would...kill me," Blair choked out. 

"It's over, baby. It's all over." Jim sat on the bed and held Blair in his arms, rocking him slowly and crooning little reassurances into his ear. At that moment, he didn't care if the Chief of Police showed up to watch. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm so damn sorry," Jim found his own control faltering and his voice shaking as he buried his face in Blair's hair. 

Simon ushered the other officers back out of the room to assist in rounding up Corman's people and the few customers who hadn't made it out the back door--and into the waiting arms of several police units. 

"I love you, mine," Blair whispered, trying to crawl into Jim's skin with him. 

"You must be freezing, baby. Let go a minute." 

"Don't want to." 

"Blair, I want to put some clothes on you. Are your clothes here somewhere?" 

"No. I don't know where they are." 

"Okay. I'm going to put my sweater on you, and then I want you to slide your arms in the sleeves of the coat." 

"My butt's cold," Blair complained honestly. Jim hugged him tighter a moment and kissed his hair. 

"Okay. You can have the pants too." Jim luxuriated in just cuddling Blair a moment before releasing him and helping him get dressed. 

When they emerged from the room, Blair in most of Jim's clothes, including the pants with the legs rolled up into cuffs at the bottom, and Jim emerged in a t-shirt and a neatly folded sheet fashioned into a wrap-around kilt of sorts, Simon laughed. 

"Now I know it's love. Sandburg even got the pants away from you." 

Leaving the scene hand in hand with Blair, Jim didn't really give a damn if he was wearing a tiara and a pink tutu. All he needed to feel complete was holding onto his hand tightly, healthy and alive. 

After changing into some old gym clothes he had in the trunk of the rental car, Blair gave Jim his pants and sweater back, and Jim set about the task of filling out his preliminary report. Blair gave his statement with Jim at his side, effectively sealing Patterson's and Hooper's fates to stand trial for charges of conspiring to murder him. 

He reluctantly shared the information about the photos they'd taken of him with one of Corman's people, and felt warmed to his soul when Jim reached over and took a hold of his hand for moral support. Right in front of God, the assistant DA, the stenographer and everybody. 

"You doin' okay, Chief?" Jim asked the smaller man, who was dozing on and off in the passenger seat of the rental car. 

"I've had better days, man." Blair sounded exhausted, and Jim didn't blame him. 

"You'd tell me if Corman's guy touched you, right?" 

"Yeah, I'd tell you. He wasn't any more excited about me than I was about him." 

"Then he has no libido." Jim smiled as Blair chuckled at that conclusion. "Blair, I really meant what I said when I said I was sorry before. That wasn't just emotions talking. I really _am_ sorry for what I said to you before...you left tonight." 

"I know. I backed you into a corner. I don't mean to keep doing that. I love you, Jim. I'll always be with you no matter what you do or say, unless you throw me out." Blair looked out the passenger window. "And I wouldn't blame you if you did that. I've fucked everything up for you, and then I pouted because you didn't want me along on the Corman thing." Blair shook his head. "This whole homophobia thing, it's just so damned hard for me to accept." 

"For me too, baby." Jim reached over and stroked Blair's hair. "You didn't mess anything up for me. We've been through this more than once before." 

"Can you step on it a little? I just really want you to hold me for a while, and if I have to sit on this console, we won't be able to do anything worthwhile for about a month." 

Jim laughed out loud and tugged on a curl playfully. And sped up considerably. 

The moment they were inside the door of the loft, Jim descended on Blair's mouth, claiming it with both passion and tenderness. Blair melted into the kiss, arms coming up around Jim as the larger man slid a hand into his hair and kept the other powerful arm around his waist. 

"I want you, baby, so bad," Jim finally breathed into his ear, then kissed it. "Want to be inside you." He felt the answering grind of Blair's arousal against his own. He lost no time in sweeping his lover off his feet and carrying him toward the bathroom. Blair seemed puzzled at the change of direction. "Shower together first, huh?" Jim smiled as the arms around his neck tightened, and Blair sighed against his neck. 

They soaped and rinsed each other thoroughly, kissing and stroking one another lovingly. Both were committed to making love upstairs in their bed, so they turned their attentions to finishing their bathing activities. Jim always found it especially arousing when Blair would spread his legs and lean forward for Jim to make sure he was especially clean at his center. He was extra gentle and solicitous in doing this tonight, just thinking about what Blair had almost endured. Luckily, those thoughts didn't seem to be tormenting his lover too much. 

Jim wrapped a towel around his waist and then set about drying Blair. He knew how badly frightened the other man had been earlier, and all he wanted to do now was take care of him. 

With most of the water dried off, Jim bundled his lover up in the smaller of the two terry cloth robes that hung on the back of the door and started carefully toweling and then blowing dry the mop of curls. He had become proficient at caring for Blair's hair, remembering to work the conditioner into it in the shower, and then spritzing the detangler on it and running his fingers carefully through it as he dried it. Blair usually took care of his own grooming, obviously, and was faster and more proficient at it than Jim. At times like this, though, Jim thoroughly enjoyed pampering his lover, and taking all the right little pains with his hair was one good way to do that. 

"You're the most beautiful man on earth," Jim announced, kneeling in front of where Blair sat on the small chair in the bathroom. The gentle hands Jim loved so much cupped his face now. 

"Second most beautiful." 

"Did we call it a tie once before?" 

"Think so, yeah," Blair replied, smiling. 

"Bad call. You're an angel, lover. Nobody I've ever seen on earth is as beautiful as you are." 

"You trying to make me cry or something?" Blair grinned again, his voice a little shaky. 

"Blair, we said the words when we were making love, in the privacy of our bedroom. And we were outed by accident, and I haven't made you feel very good about that, I know." 

"Oh, lover, you've been great about everything. You've stood by me, taken on guys you used to be friends with...don't beat yourself up because you snapped at me one time." Blair stroked Jim's damp hair. "This has to be cold." Blair reached for the hair dryer and started working on Jim's hair. "I love handling your hair. It's so soft," Blair said with a warm smile. 

"I said I didn't want to fight for your honor. God, Blair, what a damned awful thing to say to you. I love you with all my heart, and I'd fight to the death for you--please know that." 

"I know. I love you so much, mine. I know you'd always take care of me. We had a fight. It was a nasty one, and some hurtful stuff was said, but when you're in love, that shit happens. Fortunately, people usually aren't kidnapped before it gets resolved." Blair turned off the dryer and grabbed a comb to arrange the hair in the right place. "There. Now we're both gorgeous. Oh, shit." 

"What?" 

"Does this mean we're turning into hair dressers?" Blair asked, a little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The tension eased a little and both men laughed. 

They picked up a chilled bottle of wine from the refrigerator along with two glasses and slowly climbed the stairs together. It had been an exhausting day, and by the time they were snuggled together under the covers, the most acrobatic thing they could manage was drinking some wine out of each other's glasses. 

When Blair fell asleep on Jim's shoulder, he didn't try to rouse him with the little kisses and nibbles that would have started their lovemaking in earnest. Instead, he drew the blankets up protectively around the precious body in his arms and dozed off himself. Tomorrow was Saturday, and while there was paperwork to be done, Simon wouldn't expect them to be there at dawn. Plenty of time to sleep and make love, in the order Blair wanted. 

Jim woke to a warm sensation on his left nipple. He drowsily noted the soft curls spilling over his chest, and then tuned in to the sensation. With a mouthful of wine, Blair was sucking his nipple, blending the flavor of Jim and the wine. When he finished with the first nub, he swallowed the wine and then looked up at Jim. 

"I love the way you taste," he said huskily, the tone of his voice alone making Jim's sleeping desire come out of its drowsy haze quickly. "Gonna taste all of you." The mouth fastened on the second nipple, licking and sucking. 

"What about the wine?" Jim breathed, grunting a little at the delightful stimulation. 

"I like undistilled Jim better," Blair concluded, raising those full lips up from their devilish work on Jim's chest. 

"Come on up here, baby." Jim pulled on Blair's shoulders gently until he slid back up and joined Jim to share lingering, gentle kisses. 

Slow and gentle best described their lovemaking as they took turns licking, nibbling and kissing all the secret little spots only they could find on each other. When Jim had worked his way down to Blair's center, the smaller man opened himself willingly, groaning at the wet, delightful sensation of Jim making love to him with his tongue, licking and probing the little pucker thoroughly. 

Jim finally groped in the bedside table and found the lube. He carefully and gently massaged and stretched Blair, tuning every sense to knowing when his lover was ready to receive him. When that moment came, he spread some of the gel on his own straining arousal and then slid carefully into the waiting heat. Blair shifted and groaned a little at the intrusion, but accepted him quite easily, wrapping strong legs around his back and pulling him in tight. 

He carefully lowered more of his weight on Blair, starting a gentle thrusting as he leaned in for a prolonged kiss. 

"Take me, Jim. Harder," Blair gasped. It was the first time Jim had heard such a request from his partner, and his passion-frenzied body obeyed it. Always mindful not to be too rough, he picked up the speed and force of his strokes, dragging long, low moans and occasional whimpers of ecstasy out of Blair, who gripped Jim's shoulders almost painfully and undulated in time with the larger man's movements. "God, Jim...so good...harder...more..." Blair let out a yell when his prostate was thoroughly stroked and massaged, Jim adjusting his angle to hit the little nub over and over, loving the way Blair's body spasmed in unabashed arousal each time he made contact. He added the firm pumping of his hand to Blair's already weeping cock. 

Blair's muscles contracted, clamping down on Jim as the single, prolonged call of his name warning Jim just before Blair's seed gushed forth, bathing Jim's hand and spattering his own belly. Driven to the brink, Jim's final thrusts were short, rapid and sharp. He came with a cry of Blair's name, slumping on top of his lover, spent and sated. Blair adjusted the position of his legs a bit to accommodate a lethargic, post-sex Ellison, who essentially smothered him in warm, moist flesh. 

"Blair...oh, God, sweetheart...that was...oh, God..." Jim couldn't find words, so he didn't try. 

"I wanted to feel you deep inside. And I want to feel it tomorrow." 

"You probably will, lover." Jim managed to kiss a nearby ear. 

"My mouth's over here, Jim. That's right. A little more to the right," Blair joked. 

"Smart ass," Jim covered Blair's mouth with his own, tongue slipping between the full lips, sliding lazily against Blair's until they pulled apart to breathe. "Did I hurt you?" 

"Oh, man, it was _intense_. I never felt anything--wow. Yeah, it hurts a little, but I love the way it felt. And feels. I wanna remember you inside me all day tomorrow." 

"As soon as we get those damned reports filed, I'd like to _be_ inside you all day tomorrow." 

"Wanna set up camp in there, eh, big guy?" Blair scratched at Jim's scalp gently. 

"Or maybe reverse this little dance so I can find out what's so good about being fucked silly." Jim kissed Blair again, lingering after to nibble at his lips and lick at the full mouth that always made him want to do this, even in the middle of the bullpen. 

"It's the intensity of watching you get it so good--seeing you cut loose and take what you want...I loved giving that to you. It's worth sitting on padded chairs _only_ all day tomorrow," Blair added, grinning and blushing at the same time. 

"Why did I get so lucky, huh?" 

"You didn't get lucky, Jim. You're a wonderful person, and a wonderful partner. You've given me so much love...you and I, we made this love grow...we planted it and nurtured it and cared for it together...luck had nothing to do with it, mine. I didn't just suddenly wake up one day with a revelation that you were the lover of my dreams. You made me love you, giving me all the wonderful things you always had to give but nobody else has been smart enough to take." Blair smiled. "Of course, being the borderline genius I am, I spotted the opportunity." Blair was surprised to see tears in Jim's eyes. 

"I never expected someone like you...I mean, you could have anybody...male or female..." 

"You don't know how wonderful and lovable you are, do you? You don't know how gorgeous you are, or how that smile of yours turns me into jelly, or how much love you can show me just by looking at me. Or how good it feels to have you hold me and tell me everything's going to be okay, or how loved it makes me feel the way you want to make everything right for me even when you can't. And you could never know how much it means to feel how protective you are of me, or that I can't look at anything I like too long in the mall or you buy it for me. It's not the nearly _massive_ CD collection I have now that makes that great," Blair was interrupted by a watery laugh from Jim. The other man knew he was guilty of spoiling Blair rotten any time they were in a retail environment. "It's not the stuff, man. It's the love behind it. Jim, you're like a dream, and being with you...the way you treat me...it's like a...like living a love song." 

"Love you, sweetheart," was all Jim could manage, taking Blair tightly in his arms and losing the last control over his emotions. What Blair had said touched him so deeply that all he could do was cry in Blair's embrace, and marvel at how blessed he was. 

* * *

Blair was positively glowing as he got behind the wheel of his restored Volvo. Jim had worked him over sufficiently to accept the repairs as an early Christmas present, and not to claim it on his insurance. Blair had enough problems making ends meet on his bills, which he insisted on paying himself the vast majority of the time. He was adamant that even though he and Jim were together, he could take care of himself. He did, however, concede a few things to Jim, because he knew there was a part of his lover that really wanted and needed to take care of someone, and to feel needed. 

"I can't believe how great it looks! Man, it's _beautiful_!" Blair ran his hands over the steering wheel lovingly. Knowing how attached the younger man was to his classic car, Jim hadn't seen a point in telling him that the trunk, hood and doors weren't really the same. Ryf's uncle had done a remarkable job of rebuilding it, and Blair was happy as a clam. That was good enough for Jim. 

"I've got another errand to run before we go home, so how about heading over toward Marshall Street, huh?" 

"Sure." Blair started up the car and headed in that general direction. "Marshall...you buying me flowers again?" Blair teased, grinning. The biggest florist in town was on Marshall. 

"That's a hell of an idea. I might do that too, while we're there." 

"Jim, what's the big mystery?" Blair was smiling, but his brow was furrowed a little. If there was one thing Blair couldn't stand, it was being in the dark about something--even momentarily. 

"Just do the driving, Chief. You'll find out." 

Blair did as he was told, and when he turned the car toward the Marshall Street business district, Jim finally gave him some direction. 

"Pull up right there in front of the furniture store." 

"Furniture store?" Blair repeated, obeying the instruction. When he had parked and turned off the car, he turned in the seat to face Jim. "So what do we need in there? We know the bed we've got works great." He flexed his eyebrows over his glasses, and Jim couldn't help laughing. And leaning over to kiss those grinning lips. 

"I didn't say I was going in the furniture store. I just said you should park here." Jim took off his seatbelt and opened his door. "C'mon, Chief, let's go." 

"Go where?" Blair got out of the car and hurried around the hood, pleasantly surprised to see Jim's hand extended to him. He took it happily and walked along the sidewalk with Jim, enjoying the sunny, crisp November day as they made their way up to the corner store: Castle Jewelers. "Here?" Blair asked, surprised. 

"Yup." Jim squeezed Blair's hand a little and let go of it to open the door and usher him inside. 

"Pretty upscale stuff, man," Blair commented quietly, looking at the Rolex watches in the first case he encountered. 

"May I help you?" A middle-aged man with receding brown hair spoke up from behind the counter. Clad in a dark blue suit, white shirt and tie, Jim was trying to decide if he looked more like a jeweler or an undertaker. 

"We need to take a look at your wedding bands," Jim stated calmly. Blair's head snapped up from his inspection of the watch display. 

"Right this way. Which one of you is the groom?" The man smiled, obviously assuming that there was a woman involved, and that one of the partners was there merely for moral support. 

"How _are_ we going to decide that, Chief? Coin toss?" Jim laughed a little at Blair's stunned expression. The younger man recovered quickly. 

"Oh no. I am _not_ wearing white lace, even for you, man." 

Jim laughed then and slid an arm around Blair's shoulders. 

"The rings are for us. Whatever they are, they have to match." 

"This is our selection of wedding sets. Will you be wanting two men's rings, then?" the man asked as they occupied the two chairs opposite the case displaying the wedding sets. 

"You don't get too many couples like us in here, I guess," Blair said, smiling. 

"To be honest, sir, I believe you're the first." The man smiled politely. 

"Jim, are you sure about this?" Blair looked at Jim hesitantly. 

"Would you excuse us a moment?" Jim asked the salesman, who nodded and moved to a display of tennis bracelets to do some completely unnecessary straightening. 

"I mean, this is pretty obvious." 

"Blair, last night, when you were missing--" 

"Jim, I lived. I'm okay. You don't have to do this because you feel guilty about our fight. You sure made it up to me last night...and this morning," Blair concluded, ducking his head with a little blush. 

"And I found a jewelry store with padded chairs." Jim smiled as Blair turned completely crimson and laughed a little. 

"I just mean that I don't need you to do something like this to feel married to you. I don't want to force you into big public displays you aren't comfortable with." 

"You didn't let me finish before. When you were missing last night, I felt like I'd lost half my soul. All I could think about was how complete and whole and...and wonderful my life is when I have you with me. And all I kept seeing was the look in your eyes when I made that stupid remark about defending your honor. My God, Blair, I've been letting my job and a handful of bigoted bastards dictate my lifestyle. That's over. I know I can't get a marriage license with you, and we can't change our names to match...but we can make a promise, and we can wear rings and make it public. And then, when I take some of that backed up vacation over Christmas, we can fly to Hawaii and make it legal--at least there." 

"What?" Blair's eyes widened. 

"Hawaii allows same sex marriages, sweetheart. I want us to have that, along with as much legal paperwork as we can have tying us together here at home." Jim took both Blair's hands in his. "This isn't as romantic as it should be, I know but--" Blair pulled one hand free and covered Jim's lips with two fingers. 

"This is probably the most romantic moment of my entire life, and I know the one that ends up topping this one will be with you too." Jim kissed the restraining fingers and took a hold of Blair's hand, gently moving it away from his mouth. 

"I never asked you if you wanted to wear a ring--" 

"You have to ask?" Blair countered, with a smile that turned into a little laugh. "Oh, man, this is the kind of thing I dreamed about but didn't figure would ever happen. This is, like, the most _amazing_ thing that ever happened to me, man. Are you nuts? Of course I wanna wear your ring. I'll wear it through my nose if you want." 

"As attractive as that would be," Jim began, laughing a little, "I had something a little more traditional in mind." 

"I can do traditional." Blair noticed Jim's skeptical expression. "With you." That brought a warm smile. 

"We're ready," Jim motioned to the salesman, who returned from his various busy work and began showing the two men a succession of men's wedding bands. 

"I like this one," Blair was carefully examining an ornate band of gold detailed with rose and green gold grape leaves in its center. It was a substantial, masculine ring, but it had a beauty that was unique in a sea of plain gold bands. 

"Let's have a look at it," Jim said, smiling as he took Blair's hand in his. "Is it your size?" 

"Yeah. They have one in your size, too. Right there," Blair helpfully pointed out. Jim had a feeling they had just found their rings. He knew he'd never have the heart to dampen the enthusiasm on Blair's face, even if they were a little more ornate than what he would have chosen. He slid the ring on Blair's finger. 

"You don't usually wear gold, Chief," Jim commented, checking out the appearance of the ring on Blair's hand. It looked like it belonged there...for a lifetime. 

"That's why I want something like this. I've never had anything like it, and it'll look different that anything I've ever worn. Make it more special." 

"I guess I better try one of these on then." He waited while Blair plucked one in Jim's size from the cushioned tray. Taking the larger hand in his, Blair slid the ring into place in Jim's finger. 

"Wow," Blair breathed in a voice little above a whisper. "You like it?" He looked up hopefully at Jim. 

"I love it." He smiled lovingly at Blair, then turned to the salesman. "We'll take these, and we want to wear them." 

"Will that be a cash or charge today, sir?" 

"Ah, char--" 

"Jim, I've got an idea." 

"What?" 

"I'll buy yours and you buy mine." 

"But they're--" It was on the tip of Jim's tongue to remind Blair that they were the same price, but there was a romance and a symbolism in the gesture that moved him deeply. "Is there a different code number or something on the sizes?" he asked the clerk. 

"As a matter of fact, yes. Each size has a slightly different code for the computer, for inventory purposes." 

"Then I'm buying his." 

"And I'm buying his," Blair echoed, smiling. 

If the salesman thought they were a little silly, he was polite enough not to show it. He merely smiled and took great pains to enter the right code number in for each transaction, selling Jim's ring to Blair and Blair's ring to Jim. The two men left with identical charge slips tucked in the their pockets. 

The moment they stepped out of the store, Jim startled Blair by grabbing him around the waist, squeezing him in a tight embrace, lifting his feet off the ground and spinning them around twice. Right there on the sidewalk. Still holding Blair up so his feet didn't quite touch the cement, he descended on his lover's mouth for a prolonged kiss. 

"I love you," he whispered, before letting Blair's feet rest on the ground again. 

"I love you too, mine. They're beautiful," Blair whispered, examining his ring again, then grabbing Jim's hand so he could see them both at once. 

"A matched set, baby. Just like us." Jim slid his arm around Blair's shoulders, and Blair's arm came around his waist. They started walking slowly toward the car, exchanging all the silly, mushy love words the occasion allowed...and making plans to celebrate properly at home. 

* * *

Pamela Patterson was arrested shortly after her father's bail was revoked along with his surviving cohort, Hooper. Nicole Pierce was the only member of the original conspiracy to be cut a good deal. The DA had the evidence he needed, and plea bargains weren't being offered. Pamela's prints even matched one of the smeared partials from Blair's vandalized Volvo, and the girl finally admitted that she and her boyfriend had trashed the car at her father's urging. 

Joseph Walker was laid to rest without the fanfare of an official funeral. Had he lived, Walker would have faced a trial on charges of kidnapping and conspiracy to commit first degree murder--a capital offense. 

Julian Corman was sold out so many times over by his stable of hookers as well as his flustered customers that his conviction on charges of racketeering and prostitution were in the bag. Patterson and Hooper were quick to point fingers at Corman and the seedy ex-con he'd hired to kill Maria Burnette in hopes of bettering their own situations. Hooper revealed that Corman had the brake lines on Jim's truck cut, after he learned the detective was questioning the very ex-con that had been hired to kill Maria. Both men did manage to strike a deal with the DA to avoid the death penalty on the conspiracy charges, since nailing Corman for the second count of conspiracy to commit murder, plus the attempted murder of a cop, was an attractive concept. 

Having been duly embarrassed by the unthinkable conduct of their colleagues, the detectives in the Vice division were more than pleased to accept the invitation of the detectives in the Major Crimes division for a joint celebration to mark the successful closure of the Corman investigation. 

With a former Vice cop dead and two others facing murder charges, a wild party seemed tasteless. Surprisingly, it was Ed Miller who stepped forward to offer the use of his basement rec room for a "beer, burgers and football" get together on a chilly Sunday afternoon. 

"I still don't know as this is such a great idea, Jim." Blair pulled on his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck. 

"The only way we're going to ever find out if we can peacefully coexist at the PD is to do something like this. We were both invited." 

"Like Ed Miller wants me in his house." 

"He's probably afraid you'll beat him up again if he doesn't invite you," Jim quipped, slipping into his own coat. 

"Very funny." 

"Look, I'm done playing games with this. I thought you knew that." Jim took a hold of Blair's left hand and pulled it up to kiss the gold band on the third finger. 

"I know, but--" 

"And you haven't forgotten that we're going to Hawaii this winter to make these legally binding?" Jim held up their joined left hands which bore the rings. 

"No, of course not, but still--" 

"But still what? One thing Simon told me back right after your run in with Walker and company was true. When you make an inroad with bigotry, you have to keep pushing ahead, or you lose what little progress you've made, and you sure as hell don't go any further. I work with some jerks, but I also work with some good people. We have to find out yet who the scales are balanced in favor of. If it turns out to be the jerks, we'll pack up our stuff and move on. If not, well, we might be able to work this out." 

"Sounds like a good reason to go," Blair responded, grinning. 

"Do me a favor, though?" 

"Sure, anything." 

"Don't explain to the guys what football has to do with male aggression and testosterone levels?" Jim was serious, but Blair laughed. 

"Got you on your back by half-time, didn't it?" Blair started out the door. 

"You made that up?" Jim's menacing tone was the only warning Blair needed to break into a run down the hall to the stairs. "Sandburg! I'll get you for that one!" Jim vowed, locking up and racing downstairs hot on Blair's heels. 

* * *

Corinne Miller greeted the guests at the door and directed them down to the rec room, where her husband was hosting his party. She was a pleasant woman in her early forties, with neatly styled short blonde hair and clear blue eyes. She was just as charming in greeting Jim and Blair as she had been in greeting Ryf and Brown, who walked in ahead of them. 

Blair hoped he wasn't walking too close to Jim as they descended the stairs into a basement full of rowdy cops and the sounds of the pre-game show starting on the wide-screen TV. He half expected the whole thing to be a trap of some sort, hating himself for being so paranoid around a group who had, for the most part, not harassed him or Jim in any way. 

"Hey, Ellison!" Kendall hollered. "Looks like the back up supplies are here!" He referred to the case of beer and three bags of chips that were Jim and Blair's contribution to the growing mountain of food and beverage piling up on a large, square coffee table in the middle of the grouping of well-worn but comfortable couches and chairs. "Sandburg--you giving any self-defense demonstrations at half-time?" Kendall added with a devilish grin. 

"Shut up, asshole," Miller retorted, though in a surprisingly friendly tone, with the hint of a smile on his face. 

"Only if somebody tries to steal my beer," Blair responded, sitting in the empty corner of a couch. Jim plunked down happily, close enough for Blair to feel a bit pressed between Jim's hip and the arm of the couch. Jim ran his arm along the back of the couch, but didn't make any move to ostentatiously touch his lover. Actually, looking back, Blair recalled another such gathering where Jim had done the same thing, long before they were lovers. It seemed like it was a natural protective instinct with Jim--to hover near Blair when they were in any environment that would be remotely unfriendly to the younger man. 

There was a little further bantering, and a few war stories exchanged about the Corman investigation, before the pre-game programming ended and the game began. 

Sitting there among half the detectives from Vice and just about all of Major Crimes, Blair didn't find himself ostracized or ignored in any way. When he finally relaxed enough to get into the game, he was cheering and yelling with the rest of the guys, passing snacks back and forth, engaging in some friendly arguments about the plays--in other words, he felt accepted. And in accepting him, again, as they had when he became Jim's partner, they were at least indicating a willingness to live and let live. There was a little chill in the air from a few of guys there, but the worst thing he was encountering was polite tolerance, and at the best, friendly acceptance. That was a range Blair could definitely handle. 

Jim felt relaxed for the first time in weeks, there in the midst of his friends and colleagues, with his life partner safely positioned close at his side. He wondered if these guys had suspected them of being lovers before. Looking at the way he had hemmed Blair into the corner of the couch, he realized that the last time they'd been at a gathering of cops, he'd done the same thing. Blair had still be nervous around a big group of Jim's friends and co-workers back then, and they didn't really take him all that seriously. Jim had plunked himself down close to Blair at that Superbowl party like a pit bull guarding his territory. 

Back then, they had been exchanging private comments and jokes between themselves, and when the beer ran out, Blair had shared his half-full bottle with Jim, passing it back and forth casually. Jim smiled a little when he thought of how intimate they had been in so many small ways for years now. Relaxing further back into the cushions, he reached over and seized a couple of pretzels out of the handful Blair was holding. He was rewarded with one of those big smiles that glowed with love. Life was good. 

* * *

"Sandburg," a voice startled Blair as he re-entered the Miller house with the extra case of beer Jim had loaded in the trunk. No one was feeling any pain down in the rec room, but more "refreshments" were deemed necessary to make it through to the end of the game. Now, Ed Miller was confronting him in the kitchen, nodding toward a counter for Blair to set the beer there. "I owe you an apology." 

"I kind of took it as that when I got invited along today. So, no hard feelings?" Blair extended his hand, and Miller shook it. 

"I went through the academy with Joe Walker. He had a strong rep in our department--really, all through his career. He had an arrest record most of us would kill for. I found it very hard to accept that he wasn't all we thought he was." 

"That's never easy, man. Accepting that a friend, somebody you respect...that they're totally different than you expected." 

"The sick part of this is, half the guys downstairs knew what Walker and the others were up to with you in the restroom. We covered for them." 

"Terrific," Blair responded, rolling his eyes a little. 

"I think you should know why you were getting called 'Ellison's whore' all the time." 

"I figured it was just because Jim and I were...you know, together." 

"Walker specialized in working the worst of the waterfront porno scene. He busted hookers, pimps, perverts peddling kiddy porn out of back rooms of adult bookstores...the long and short of it is that he spent most of his time in the sewers. He claimed that he'd seen you at a couple of the more upscale adult clubs downtown, and that you were down there selling blow jobs for a pretty steep price. The story fit with the image of the struggling grad student making ends meet by... _moonlighting_ a little. So when we heard that, the mental picture of you worming your way into living with Ellison, and then drawing him into...that kind of relationship...well, you get the picture." 

"So everybody thought I was a paid male prostitute in my spare time, who was sponging off Jim--or paying for my room and board with services rendered?" 

"More or less. And that you'd managed to con him somehow into a more serious relationship, maybe liking the lifestyle and stability of him supporting you." 

"No wonder everybody wanted me strung up." 

"Not everyone believed it. You've got some pretty loyal friends in this department, oddly enough. Captain Taggert threatened one of his guys with getting busted back to a foot patrol if he heard another word about it. But people who were friends with Joe, like me, believed it." 

"You don't believe it now?" 

"Not after what I found out about Joe's set-up with Corman. He was bird-dogging for him. Picking up new talent when he was supposed to be getting these kids off the street. Half Corman's underage stable came from Joe's recruiting efforts. We should've smelled a rat when he only delivered ugly ones to the halfway houses." Miller shook his head. 

"How far were they going to take it that day in the restroom?" Blair asked, having wondered about that since it happened. What he had been most curious about, the anthropologist in him poking his head out again, was how much the guys who were covering for the three perpetrators were willing to go along with. 

"Walker said he was going to teach you a lesson. We didn't ask what that entailed." 

"I see," Blair nodded. 

"I think I can speak for most of Vice when I say that Walker, Hooper and Patterson turned out to be real embarrassments to the department. Pushing around a 'male whore' in a bathroom is a hell of a lot less inconceivable than turning someone over to be tortured and murdered." 

"Do the rest of the guys in Vice still think I was...you know, selling it?" 

"I don't think they put a hell of a lot of stock in anything they heard from those three right now." 

"For what it's worth, I was never with a man before Jim." 

"Look, Sandburg, I want to bury the hatchet here. I don't want details." 

"I just want it clear that I didn't pick Jim out so he could support me, and he isn't just another in a series. He was the first, the last, and the only, for the rest of my life." 

"I can't understand what makes two men...the whole concept makes me want to go out and puke in the bushes. But so do some of the kinks that turn men and women on. What you and Ellison do behind closed doors is your own business, I guess that's my point. I wanted it to be clear that you aren't going to get your head stuck in the toilet again anytime soon." 

"That's a relief," Blair responded, laughing a little. "I really understand what you're saying, man. And I appreciate you saying it. It couldn't have been easy. I don't expect everyone at the station to like me or to accept this relationship happily. I just want the peace of mind to come and go without somebody slamming me against my car or kicking my ass just because of who I love." 

"Fair enough." 

"So this is where the beer is," Ryf said as he came up the stairs from the basement. "Crowd's gettin' ugly." 

"They didn't have far to go," Miller quipped, grabbing the case of beer. 

"I heard that!" Jim shouted up from the basement. "Did you hear that guys?" And so the general, semi-drunken rowdiness went, until late into the evening. 

* * *

"Oh...yeah...like that," Jim growled as Blair started picking up the pace of his strokes. The feel of the sweaty weight of Blair on his back and the hard cock thrusting in and out of him in an even tempo was fast growing on Jim. He could feel that silky hair skimming over his own overheated skin and Blair's forehead dropped just below his shoulder blades, the smaller man making all the little love noises that drove Jim wild. 

"God, Jim, you're so...oh...so tight...ugh..." 

"Faster, baby, come on. Oh, man! Give it to me good!" Jim spared the last shred of conscious thought to marvel that those words had just come out of his mouth. //Jim Ellison, the guy who thought anal sex was like having a telephone pole stuck up his ass, is begging for it...God, what you do to me, Sandburg...// 

Feeling Blair hit his prostate, driving into the tight channel in hard thrusts, reaching under Jim to pump his own aching erection in rhythm with the motions... Jim screamed out Blair's name, and in some fog-enshrouded corner of his brain, comprehended that his spasms were milking Blair, driving him over the edge, making him scream loud enough to wake the dead--and the neighbors. He felt the other man shudder and collapse against his back, lazily kissing the damp flesh there. 

"Jim...you okay?" The voice was exhausted at best. 

"Oh, man..." Jim groaned into the pillow. 

"Is that good or bad?" Jim could feel all of Blair's muscles tensing on that question, obviously afraid he'd hurt Jim by taking the invitation to cut loose and ride him hard. 

"It's great now. Probably be hell on the desk chair tomorrow morning." Jim laughed a little, and felt Blair relax, resuming his kissing and licking at the smooth skin of Jim's back. "My mouth's over here, Chief. How about joining me?" 

"I would if I could move." Blair exhaled. "I don't think I've come that hard since--" 

"Last night?" Jim quipped. 

"Since never, man. Wow." 

"Ah, Blair, are you going to move in back there or do you think maybe...?" 

"Sorry, man. Are you uncomfortable?" 

"I want to kiss you, baby. The only way I could do that now is if I were a giraffe." 

"God, that would make a hell of a mental picture, wouldn't it?" 

"Ouch," Jim said, laughing while Blair started laughing too. 

"Guess I should move, huh?" Blair eased slowly out of his lover and crawled up into Jim's waiting arms. "You're sure I didn't hurt you?" 

"You made me really feel it. There's a difference." Jim finally took the kiss he'd been wanting, taking his time to taste every bit of Blair's lips and tongue. 

"You like it rough or gentle?" Blair asked, snuggling into Jim's arms. 

"Gentle most of the time. Rough when I'm in the mood for it." 

"Me too," Blair agreed.. "I love you, mine. Tonight was...wow..." 

"You said that already, but I love you even if you repeat yourself." 

* * *

Jim stirred and woke to the sound of music coming from downstairs. Disappointed that Blair wasn't in his arms, he checked the clock. It was close to midnight. They'd come home from the football gathering about nine, and gotten right down to business. Jim laughed a little to himself. //Just like a couple of horny kids...or honeymooners.// They'd only had the rings a few days, but they already felt like they belonged there. 

He shifted and sat up, wincing a little. It was uncomfortable, and his prostate was tingling a little from the workout, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. And there was something strangely erotic about feeling it like this. 

Pulling on a robe, he started downstairs. Soft music was playing on the stereo, and the light of several candles danced on the walls. Blair was in the kitchen, dressed in his navy blue terry cloth robe. The scent of his soap and shampoo reached Jim's nose. 

"You showered already," he said quietly, sidling up behind Blair and moving the slightly damp hair aside to kiss his neck. 

"You were really zonked, man." Blair continued preparing the sandwiches in front of him, despite the very large man draping himself around the smaller body. He had become somewhat used to preparing food with a giant human backpack named Jim. 

"Whose fault is that, huh?" Jim returned to the spot he had kissed and fastened his mouth there, sucking the soft flesh. 

"Ohh, man, don't do this to me." 

"Hungry, huh?" Jim asked against Blair's neck, releasing a very nicely formed hickey. 

"Ravenous--for food this time." 

"Can't win 'em all." Jim gave him a little squeeze and kissed his cheek, releasing him and heading toward the bathroom. 

"Jim?" 

"What?" 

"Are you really okay?" 

"What is it you usually tell me? Beyond okay?" Jim smiled and disappeared into the bathroom. 

By the time Jim had showered, Blair had a fire going in the fireplace, a plate of sandwiches on the coffee table and was carrying two steaming cups of hot chocolate into the living room. 

When Blair was settled comfortably against Jim on the couch, their legs covered by the throw, nibbling on the sandwiches, Jim finally broke the peaceful silence. 

"I really appreciate what you did today, sweetheart," Jim kissed Blair's forehead. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I know going to that party at Miller's wasn't easy for you. And I also appreciate the way you responded to Ed's apology." 

"You heard all that?" 

"I was tuned into you from the time you left to get the beer until you were back beside me. You oughtta know that by now." 

"I don't expect all of those guys to agree with what we're doing. I just don't want to get slapped around for it." 

"I'm glad you feel that way, because I don't really think I want to resign." 

"I don't want you to. I never did." 

"I know that. But I would have never worked in that environment if you weren't safe there. Because where you aren't welcome, I don't need to go." 

"I feel the same way." Blair was quiet a few minutes, chewing and thinking. "How long do you suppose it'll stay like this?" 

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" 

"This intense? You were married before. How long does it take before it gets routine?" 

"This is nothing like what I had with Carolyn. As soon as the physical novelty wore off...well, we just weren't meant to be. I never wanted her...in my space all the time. And she sure as hell didn't want me in hers without an appointment. We just clashed. She's a good person, but I wasn't what she was looking for, and truthfully, she wasn't the right fit for me either. So I don't know, based on that. I never felt this...intensely about anyone else before." 

"Really?" Blair looked up at him with blue eyes Jim felt he could drown in without even trying. "I haven't either...but then I wasn't married, so I thought maybe with Carolyn...you know...it was this good for a while." Blair hesitated. "Jim...all my life...nothing's ever...lasted. I just don't...get comfortable in a situation all that easily. Sometimes...I get scared because...you know...if this...um, didn't work and you...you know, decided that I wasn't...what you wanted...man, I don't wanna say this because it ties you down--" 

"Blair, I'm wearing your ring, I love you, and we're going to Hawaii in a month to get married. I _want_ to be tied down. Just say it." 

"If you broke up with me now...I think...I think it would probably break my heart so badly that I don't think I could...go on." 

"Blair, you listen to me, and listen good. The only way I will _ever_ break up with you is if you tell me to leave. And even then, you'll have to work damned hard to make me believe it." Jim set his hot chocolate aside so he had both hands free to soothe his partner. Why Blair was getting uncertain now, he didn't know. But it didn't really matter. All that mattered was reassuring him how permanent this really was. He tangled a hand in Blair's hair and pressed his lover's head against his shoulder. "You're not used to counting on anything, are you, baby?" 

"I'm gettin' there, Jim. It's just taking me a little while, I guess." 

"I'm not saying we won't get used to each other, or that as we get older, some of the frenzy won't cool off a little. But the love is never going to change. Because I feel just as...dependent on you as you do on me." 

"Really?" 

"Really." Jim smiled and kissed Blair's hair. 

"My whole life has been...temporary. Everything...my friends, my mom's boyfriends, my schools...nothing ever lasted very long. I'm used to saying good bye, and...to...to being disappointed sometimes when stuff didn't work out or last very long. I guess I'm...kind of...I don't know. Scared, maybe." 

"Scary to know you need somebody so much, isn't it? It is for me too, Chief." 

"I won't ever leave." 

"Me either, baby." 

"I found a song I want you to hear. Mind if I go put it on?" Blair pulled away a little to look up at Jim. 

"'Course not." Jim smiled and sat back, sipping his hot chocolate and watching Blair. Watching Blair was probably his favorite thing to do...well, okay, second favorite thing... He accepted the warm bundle of energy back into his arms and gave him a drink out of his hot chocolate mug as they curled together to listen to the song. 

//I was gonna see the world one day,  
Maybe be a movie star,  
Or buy a quiet house down by the bay,  
And write about the way things are,  
But the way things are right now,  
I can hardly write my name,  
And I've lost my taste for the wandering ways,  
For fortune and for fame. 

Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you  
Twenty four hours a day,  
All the other dreams I've had  
Have faded away.  
Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you  
Twenty four hours a day,  
If you wanna be with me,  
Then here's where I'll stay. 

I was gonna save the human race,  
Find my place in history,  
Or sail away one day far out in space,  
And live a life of mystery,  
But the mystery to me,  
Is the life I lived before,  
And the place for me isn't history,  
It's with you forever more. 

Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you  
Twenty four hours a day,  
All the other dreams I've had  
Have faded away.  
Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you,  
Twenty four hours a day,  
If you wanna be with me,  
Then here's where I'll stay...// 

When Barry Manilow's voice had faded, Blair hit the button on the remote to switch them back to the disc of piano music that had been playing in the background. 

"That was beautiful," Jim said, leaning down to share a gentle kiss with Blair. 

"That says how I feel just about the best...even when I got that offer to go to Borneo back then...I couldn't leave you. I was trying to rationalize it, that I should go, that it was a good opportunity...but I couldn't have ever gone. It would have been like ripping my heart out and leaving it here." 

"I don't want to hold you back, if..." Jim took a deep breath. Could he really say good bye to Blair for months on end? "If you need to go somewhere someday--" 

"If I have to leave you, it isn't worth it. Life's too short and too uncertain to spend big chunks of it feeling miserable. I guess I played that song for you because I wanted you to know that I'll always be here. You don't have to worry about me leaving." 

"I wasn't worried. I knew you wouldn't be allowed on the plane with that 200 pound carry-on bag you'd have to take along." Jim took a drink of his cocoa as Blair laughed. 

"You'd go tromping through the jungle with me?" 

"You did it for me. Besides, if it meant I got to see you sweaty and wearing nothing but a loincloth and a smile, I'd probably hike into hell with you." Jim smiled as Blair laughed and ducked his head. He was blushing, and Jim found that probably the most endearing thing in the world. "I'm already living for the moment I get to see you in a grass skirt." 

"Over my dead body!" Blair's head shot up. 

"Oh, come on, Chief. I can just see you, showing off that hip action there on the sandy beach at Maui--" 

"I suppose you want me to put flowers in my hair too?" 

"Nah. I just want to see you do the hula." 

"I'll make a deal with you. On our wedding night, I'll do a hula routine in our hotel room, minus the grass skirt, you won't ever forget." Jim laughed. Now it was his turn to blush. 

End


End file.
